Illusoire
by Lady Lan
Summary: Stranded on an alien planet, Bulma and Gohan struggle to survive. Staying alive becomes increasingly difficult, especially after they've done such a good job pissing off a certain Saiyan Prince... AU BV Complete
1. Chapter 1

To give credit where credit is due: Thank you Akira Toriyama for creating a world with sexy aliens and balls that grant wishes. Also, to Suzanne Collins, author of "The Hunger Games", for initially inspiring the plot for this story.

Yeah, I took some liberties with the opening of DBZ, but just bear with me. This is an AU fic, rating will be raised as the story goes on. You have been forewarned. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Her eyes were empty as she watched the graffiti elapse between bridges. The fog had surrendered to the dawn and the early glimmers of sun reflected off the cracked concrete, flashing crude, colorful art and the occasional vulgar word.

It seemed silly now to think of Chikyuu as a corrupted place after all that had been exposed the short forty-eight hours that had passed. To say they'd been hellish would be an understatement.

Bulma released a sigh, feeling her chest expand as she rid her body of the stale air of the train car and stepped out into the early morning breeze. She could see the smog drifting into the already grey sky and smell the stench of fish. This was a fishing port, after all. Though the young woman was well aware of this fact, it didn't stop her nose from crinkling in disgust.

Glancing down at the radar in her hands, she began her journey in the direction of the dot flashing at the edge of the green, gridded screen. Five of the remaining orbs were packed securely in her satchel, and she subconsciously fingered them as she quickened her pace. The seventh ball had been fastened to young Gohan's hat. After she'd secured this one there'd at least be a glimmer of hope. She didn't have much to offer her planet or her loved ones, but she could do this in her sleep.

No one spared her a second glance, and she knew they had no idea what things like a Dragon Radar or Dragon Balls were and would thus have no interest in taking them from her. Though it didn't stop her from tucking a gun inside her coat, just in case.

No, the people bustling around her, smiling ignorantly and chatting excitedly, were blissfully unaware of the impending doom their planet faced. They had no idea that two days ago her closest friends had felt a ki so powerful it terrified even the strongest man on the planet. They had no idea that this man had come to see if his brother had succeeded in destroying Chikyuu. They had no idea that aliens existed, that they were a threat to their very existence at that moment. They had no idea that the threat was such that their once oldest enemy, Piccolo, was now an ally or that the man responsible for keeping them alive so many times before was a descent of this race set out to annihilate them.

Bulma already been exposed to so much. As a young girl she had learned truth to the mysteries of the universe many believed to be mere fantasy. She had been aware that there was more out there long ago, and yet even she felt a tightening in her throat and fear lurching in the pit of her stomach at the threat of alien murders. Though she'd rather be terrified in the midst of the action than playing dumb on the sidelines any day.

"Aha," she smiled, glancing down a ravine. "There you are, little bugger."

Fishing through her bag, she tossed down Capsule #36, and the smoke diminished to reveal a shiny, black hover bike. Brushing an errant tress of aquamarine from her eyes, she swung her leg over the bike and dove nose first into the canyon.

The stench of fish grew stronger as she descended, and she cursed her friends. "The things I do for you boys! And they're not even the least bit grateful. A simple 'thank you' now and then wouldn't kill you!"

Stopping abruptly at the bottom of the gorge, she hoped off her bike and once again studied the radar.

"Twenty paces forward and," she glanced down at a pile of rocks, "And once again, the dirty work's left to Bulma." Tossing aside a few rocks, she blew another stray hair away from her face. She wiped her hands on her pants, frowning as her sweaty palms left a trail of grime on the material. A few more rocks were tossed carelessly behind her when a glimmer of orange caught the sun's rays, the gleam nearly blinding her.

"Aha!" She retrieved the Dragon Ball from the pile of rocks and held it an arm's length in front of her. "Wow Bulma. Beauty _and _brains? I just hope those idiots can keep us alive long enough for the universe to appreciate your talents."

She smiled at her skewed reflection in the orb before stuffing it into her satchel and hoping back on her bike.

Deciding to forgo another train ride, her bike levitated out of the canyon and she zipped full speed in the direction of her friends. Though she was unable to sense ki, she knew exactly where they were gathering at this very moment.

* * *

"Hey," a short, bald man said, cupping his hands above his thick brows. "It's Bulma!"

"Huh?" A young boy said, running to stand by the older man's side. He squinted and his face suddenly brightened. "Hey, Krillin's right! Alright, it's Bulma!"

The bike landed soundlessly on the stable platform, and the blue haired woman hoped off, smiling at the two short males in front of her. "Hey guys!"

"Hi-ya Bulma," Krillin said, a smile betraying his serious expression. "Boy is it good to see you."

"Yeah," she said, opening her satchel. "I brought the Dragon Balls, just in case. Hey, Gohan, where's your dad?"

"Uh," Gohan watched as the woman placed the balls on the floor of the Lookout. "He should be here soon."

As if on cue, two powerful men landed behind the trio. Bulma turned and studied the pair of aliens, one an old enemy of theirs and the other her oldest friend. Together they were quite possibly the only chance they had for survival. Her jaw shifted nervously, it was a slim chance, she could feel it.

"Dad! Piccalo!" Gohan laughed. "Tien and Chiaotzu are with Kami right now."

"Where's Yamcha?" Bulma asked, glancing down at the young warrior. Though her on-and-off relationship with the man was currently sour, she couldn't help but worry about him.

"He'll be here," Krillin said. "Yajirobe, too."

Bulma frowned. "Don't tell me that good-for-nothing jerk is planning on fighting," she crossed her arms, "for once."

"I'm not sure Bulma," Goku shrugged. "But I'm betting we can use all the help we can get."

"Are you sure he said to meet at noon?" Piccolo asked, arms crossed and expression stoic.

"Yes," Goku nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. "Raditz was very clear that if we wanted to live, we should meet him at his ship at noon. Is everyone sure they're in? I only fought him briefly and I don't know what my chances are against him…"

"We're in, Goku," Krillin said, fists pressed tightly at his side. "If we're going down, we're at least going down with a fight."

A silence settled between the group, the bright sun and blue sky eerily cheery for what was quite possibly their planet's final day. The sound of echoing footsteps pulled the silent warriors out of their daze, and Kami, Tien, and Chiaotzu joined them outside on the platform. As they approached, Yamcha and Yajirobe descended onto the Lookout with echoing thuds.

"Sorry I'm late," Yamcha grinned. "Hope I didn't miss anything."

Bulma frowned at him but remained silent as Yajirobe raised a burlap sack in the air, gaining the group's attention. "Senzu Beans from Korin. There's only four."

Kami stared off into the distance, hand gripping his staff. "It should be plenty."

Goku nodded. "I guess this is it. We should probably get going."

"Good luck to you, young friends," Kami said, eyes still drawn to some point in the seemingly endless blue sky.

The group began to take to the air as Bulma mounted her bike.

"Woa, Bulma, where do you think you're going?"

Her brows knitted above narrowed, blue eyes. "I'm coming with you guys, Yamcha. Don't think you can just abandon me because I'm a girl."

"Bulma, it's not because you're a girl," Goku said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He knew the wrath of subduing 'girl-power' well enough from the past four years of living with his wife, ChiChi. However, it just wasn't safe. "It's got nothing to do with that. You're just not strong enough."

Yajirobe tucked the bag into his belt and shrugged, "Face it babe, you're a liability."

First compressed before her, Bulma fumed. "Ug! I've done ten times more than most of you saving the planet in the past! And this is the thanks I get? I want to be there to see the proposition that alien puts on the table. If it's going to, I at least want to know how the world ends."

"Bulma," Yamcha took a step towards her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Please, just stay. For me?"

Letting out a defeated sigh, Bulma twisted away from his grip and crossed her arms over her chest. She felt every bit the spoilt child she looked. Damn these men if they thought they could be rid of her that easily. She watched her friends go, take into the air one by one and fly until they became small pinpoints in the distance. She couldn't distinguish one from the other, but she felt anger equally towards them all. How could they? After all she'd done for them, for their home!

Kami sent her a side gaze and frowned, "They are just trying to keep you safe."

Bulma's angry expression faltered. "Yes. It's just frustrating, that's all."

"One day, when the time is right, you'll have your chance to protect Chikyuu and they will honor you with the respect you deserve."

She wasn't quite sure what the proper response to such a comment coming from Kami was, so she bent at the waist and thanked him. She watched the dots shrink in the distance until she could make them out no longer.

"Maybe that day is today, Kami-sama."

He watched her swing her leg back over her bike and shoot one last apologetic glance in his direction. With a nod, enough of a confirmation for her actions, Bulma whipped her head around and flew in the direction her friends had disappeared.

Who knew, if Kami was right, this may be her last chance.

* * *

This small, rocky island settled on the edge of some forgotten coast was the setting for where the planet's best defenses could very likely have met their end. It was the same place that, just two short days ago, the warriors had felt a strange ki approaching. The newcomer had seemed ready to do battle, power level at its height. However, it had more to do with his inability to suppress his ki than with his want to initiate a fight. Not that he, or any true Saiyan, really, would back down at the chance. However, the longhaired stranger studied the group of seemingly rag-tag forces before him, many literally shaking in their boots, and his gaze caught the strong, serious expression of his long lost brother.

He smirked. He may have lost most of what made him when he hit his head as a child, but his strength, even suppressed, was obvious. It was the look of confidence and his firm stance, however, which made his brother proud. Like a true Saiyan warrior, he thought.

"I had originally come to see if you had succeeded your mission," Raditz spoke, disgust in his eyes as he studied the sorry excuses for warriors. "But now it seems there's been a change of plans. We're going to need some allies, if you're up for it."

"Allies?" Krillin asked, mostly to himself. "And here I thought we'd be battling to the death…"

"Lord Frieza's Planet Trade Organization has been making enemies across the universe and his less loyal soldiers are growing weary and restless. There are many itching for a fight, and he's taken notice of this." Raditz sighed, it seemed the group before him were unaware of who Frieza was and hadn't a clue about his empire. Chikyuu ignorance was really starting to grate his nerves… "He's created a tournament on the recently conquered planet Ceirus, it's been wiped of all intelligent life and is now the setting for the Intergalactic Battle Royale."

Behind a boulder, Bulma tried her hardest to stifle a giggle. Intergalactic Battle Royale? It sounded like a cheap Chikyuu-jin action flick. She could see herself lounging on the couch watching it air alongside old Sci-Fi channel reruns. Trying to reassure herself of the seriousness of the situation, she still had to muffle her laughter with her palm.

"Hm," Goku grinned. "Sounds fun."

Raditz chuckled. "Spoken like a true Saiyan. The prospect of a tournament to the death is quite exciting, no?"

"To…" Yamcha blinked. "The death?"

"Of course. It's not child's play, weakling. The tournament will last until there is only one standing, or unless the final two players are from the same planet.

"Each planet is allowed two representatives. There is an initial lottery, but they may also take volunteers."

"Alright!" Goku said, "I'll let you guys go, and I'll volunteer!"

Raditz frowned, "There are more rules, Kakarot."

Goku shrugged. "We'll be fine. Besides, if we don't make it, Bulma's already gathered the Dragon Balls. It'll be fun."

Scratching his head, Krillin wasn't sure if 'fun' was the word to describe it. He was far from a coward, but the prospect of dying a painful death didn't exactly appeal to him.

"What does the winner get?" Yajirobe asked.

A grin crossed the Saiyans features, causing several of the warriors to shudder. "The winner gets a one-on-one battle with Freiza."

Tien and Chiaotzu exchanged a glance, not really sure that was something they wanted. Though Goku nodded eagerly. "Alright. He's the one you told us about, the one who's going around destroying innocent planets, right?"

Radtiz felt a tightening in his chest, the anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. "Yes. He's the monster who destroyed our home, annihilated our people."

The warriors studied their leader, the strongest on the planet by far, but was he really that confident that he could defeat the strongest in the universe? Though his motives were good, as they always were, Bulma frowned from her place behind the boulder. Her fists compressed, knuckles white from the strain.

Wouldn't it be easier to just make a wish on the already neatly gathered Dragon Balls? For immortality or a reduction of Frieza's power? She frowned, they wouldn't support her, she knew, not when Goku was spurting words like 'fun', but it seemed like such an easy solution. Not everyone could be a levelheaded genius like her… No, she had been gifted reckless, often idiotic friends. From her hiding pace, she rolled her eyes but remained silent. Her presence would not have been appreciated, and, frankly, Raditz scared the piss out of her.

"Well then," Raditz said, clicking a button on his forest green scouter. "Should I alert the capitol that Chikyuu will be entering two contestants in the tournament?"

When the warriors mumbled varying degrees of affirmation, Raditz opened a small computer-like device and his large fingers flittered across the screen. Bulma shifted her position so she could peer around the large rock, blood pounding so hard she could feel the thickness of reverberating in her ears. "Be brave Bulma," she muttered to herself, her own personal mantra.

The beefy Saiyan's attention returned to the men before him and smirked, "You're all in, and the winner is," pausing for dramatic effect he chuckled darkly. "Well I'll be damned, the little half-breed."

Gohan swallowed audibly and his terrified eyes jumped from his uncle to his father. "But … dad … I don't want to fight."

"Don't worry son," Goku said, placing a comforting hand on his son's small shoulder. "I'll be there with you. We're quite a pair, I know we'll do just fine."

"Goku," Tien snapped. "You're being irrational. He's just a kid."

"And ten time stronger than most of us," Piccolo butted in, eyes focused on the small Saiyan. "He's father's right, he'll be fine."

The blood rose to Gohan's cheeks as he stared at the somber Namekian. "You really think so, Piccolo?"

"You're strong Gohan, this will be good practice on learning to control your power."

"Idiots," Raditz mumbled. "Gohan has been entered into the tournament."

"And I volunteer for the second spot," Goku said.

The deep, throaty chuckle caused the human warriors to blink.

"You Chikyuu-jins are too hasty. I told you to listen to the rules, but you were overly confident. Consider this a lesson on the workings of the universe. Each planet is only allowed to enter two contestants in the Intergalactic Battle Royale. One male and one female. Equal opportunity and all that," he finished with a sly smile.

Goku shot a terrified glance towards his brother, and then his composure completely melted as he studied his son. The young boy stood terrified, the words of his biological uncle sinking in.

"No!" A voice shouted, shocking the men who had been unaware of her tiny power level just meters from where they stood. The blue haired woman ran towards them, abandoning her hiding place with a desperate look. "I'll do it. I volunteer."

"Bulma…" Yamcha's eyes widened. "You can't. Please, you'll only get yourself killed."

"I'm the only chance Gohan has," she stood her ground, expression pleading as she looked at Goku. "You said it yourself, I'm the most resourceful person you know. I can keep us safe. You can't expect Gohan to go in alone."

"I," Goku looked at his oldest friend and then to his trembling son, who was staring wide-eyed at Bulma. "ChiChi's going to kill me…."

Bulma broke a grin, "Tell her the smartest woman in the world is tutoring him. It's a small compensation for having her four-year-old son in a to-the-death tournament, but you know Chi, her logic is flawed."

Goku stared at the woman and let out a defeated sigh. She had proved to be quite an ally to him, and the adventures of their younger years wouldn't have been possible without her. If there was one woman who could keep Gohan out of harms way, it was Bulma.

"Alright," he nodded, turning towards Raditz who grinned.

"A half-breed brat and a powerless woman," shaking his head, he swept his hand over the screen once more. "It is done."

Goku stepped forward and embraced Bulma, who whispered in his ear so low only he and Piccolo could have heard. "Goku, if anything should happen to the both of us, bring Gohan back first, okay? A year in the afterlife won't kill me, right?" She forced smile at her own feeble attempt to crack a joke.

Releasing her, Goku nodded meekly. "Be safe."

She grinned at the small boy and squeezed his tiny hand in her own delicate one.

"Miss Bulma," Gohan asked, blinking up at the genius with a nervous frown. "You're not really going to make me do homework, are you?"

The gang broke out into laughter and Bulma's eyes betrayed a genuine smile, one of the last they might have until this hellish tournament they had willingly tossed themselves into was over and the odd duo returned safely home.


	2. Chapter 2

He raked his fingers through his coarse hair, fighting the urge to trail them a bit further and plunge them into the cavities of his ears. The pain would be worth putting an end to mindless chatter of the blue haired harpy.

When she and his, for lack of a more convenient word, nephew had boarded his ship, his groin had twitched with anticipation. She'd bend over to inspect some minute detail of the ship, exposing the curve of her round ass, or, as she looked up towards the mechanisms up high her chest would jut out, causing her shirt to cling to the ample globes. It had driven him crazy. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd taken a woman to his bed, but he knew it'd been too long. And he was more than willing to take her up on her enticing, inaudible offer, that is, until she opened that damn mouth of hers.

"How do you manage to stabilize the gravity?" She asked, finger tapping thoughtfully against her chin. "It's strange, it feels lighter than Chikyuu's but it's definitely stable."

Her friends had professed her to be a genius, and he was confused why she insisted on pestering him. "_I _don't manage anything concerning the god-damned gravity."

Her questions continued to drive him insane as the young half-Saiyan remained seated in the launch chair, whimpering every now and then and softly asking for his father.

Giving pestering Raditz about the wonders of space technology a momentary rest, Bulma knelt beside the boy and playfully punched his shoulder.

"Hey buddy," she smiled, trying to get a positive reaction from the child. "Relax, okay? It'll be just fine. You know, when your dad was your age he and I used to go on adventures all the time. This is kind of like that, you know? You're a real strong kid, I can see that, and this will be a lot easier if you at least _try _to be happy, okay? Just be brave."

Sniffling, Gohan nodded. "Yes ma'am Miss Bulma."

"Now Gohan, we're partners now. You can call me Bulma," she winked and the barest trace of a smile graced the boy's lips. "There, now was that so hard?"

He shook his head as she ruffled his hair, now bare of the hat, Bulma thinking it best the Dragon Ball remain on Chikyuu along with the others. "Just like your dad. A tough little guy."

In the space that lapsed between Raditz's arrival and the odd trio's departure, Goku had taken the time to further Gohan's rudimentary fighting skills. In the same span of time, Bulma had shoved every capsulated weapon she could think of into her satchel and stuffed a chest-full of outfits that made her think 'sexy space bounty hunter' and clipped it to her capsule belt.

Not that playing dress-up was all she had at the front of her mind. She'd been tampering with ki technology and had designed a few guns and shields. They had ever been tested, but she figured now was a better time than ever. Various motorbikes and compounds had also been tucked neatly in her bag, a few hundred tons she toted easily over her shoulder.

After calming Gohan down, she turned her full attention back to Raditz who had his arms crossed against the impressive expand of his chest. She tried her best at a friendly grin and he growled as he caught her once again staring at him.

"So you don't know anything about the gravity, but could you bring me up to speed on that nifty little device you've got over your eye?"

Raditz's eyes crossed as he stared at the device, a film of deep green coating everything in his path of sight. "It's called a scouter."

Bulma leaned forward, placing her hands in her chin. "Mhm. And what does it do?"

"Goddammit girl," he hissed, removing the scouter from his ear with more force than necessary. "If I give you the damn thing will you stop pestering me?"

She grinned and reached for the device, and when he handed it to her she rotated it a few times in her hands. "Space technology is so fascinating. Your Saiyan scientists must be pretty advanced."

"It's not Saiyan technology."

"Oh," she shrugged. "Fascinating nonetheless. Let's see…" She dug through her capsules until she settled on Capsule #187, which transformed into a modest sized toolbox. Thrusting it open, she began humming to herself as she poked and prodded the scouter, placing it across her eye a few times. Raditz tried to avoid her expression, but her comical frowns and bright smiles were difficult to ignore. Yes, the woman was much more appealing when her damn mouth was closed.

Though he could imagine a few equally tempting ways she'd function with her mouth open….

Twenty-eight blissful minutes of silence later, Bulma let out a sigh. "I think I've cracked it. Only, I don't have the proper material to recreate such a device. I imagine it would be pretty handy …" She frowned, handing the scouter back to its owner. "Though I suspect you'll be needing this in the tournament."

"That will not be necessary. Only one male from each planet is allowed to enter the tournament, and I am not the strongest nor the most deserving to fight Freiza."

"Oh," Bulma said, glancing down at the scouter. "Does that mean I can hang onto this?"

"Yes, fine."

She grinned. "Thanks Raditz. You're a doll."

After an awkward silence settled between them, Bulma cleared her throat.

"Hey, while you two lazy bums are just lounging about, why don't y'all hit the training deck? What do you say Uncle Raditz? Care to give young Gohan here a few pointers?"

Attention adverted to his young, frightened nephew, Raditz studied the boy with curiosity. He seemed quite strong for a halfling, but his strength was definitely accounted for by the Saiyan blood coursing his veins. And every Saiyan deserved to be properly trained. Who knew what form of backwards instruction this Saiyan received on Chikyuu? If he was anything like his father, he was going to need to toughen up for the tournament.

The beefy Saiyan chuckled. "What do you say, boy? Are you ready to be schooled by your Uncle Raditz?"

* * *

It was obvious that Gohan was sleeping peacefully by the sound of his loud, jutting snores and the way his chubby hand smooshed the skin of his cheek. Bulma smiled fondly at the boy. She had grown quite attached to him in their few days in space, and she thought he might be the only child she'd ever have the chance of getting attached to.

As an only child, she'd never played with other children. Goku was her first friend and even at his small age they were more equals, friends. With no siblings she'd never be able to call herself an aunt, and she wasn't really one to settle down and make babies of her own. She always knew she'd never marry Yamcha, and there had never really been anyone else in her life…

No, she was restless and free, and she was going to put everything she had into protecting Gohan for the time being.

"It's a shame," she smiled. "I think I may have made a good mother."

"Already that sure of your demise?"

She looked up at the sound of Raditz's voice and frowned. "It's pretty inevitable, no?"

He shrugged. "You can make it pretty far if you lay low for a while. The beginning will be a killing spree. All the power-hungry fools gathering in one place to slaughter one another. After that, there will be significantly less people. Of course, that's also when they'll come hunt down the ones who hid like cowards from the initial fight. That part will be fun, like tracking pretty."

"Thanks Raditz," Bulma said, forcing a smile even though her hands felt clammy. "For the advice. Gohan and I won't pose much of an initial threat, so we should be able to lay low for a while."

He shrugged. "Trust me, I'm not rooting for you."

Chuckling, she glanced down at the sleeping boy and smiled. "You should. He's your flesh and blood you know."

"Feh. Little halfling."

She lifted her eyes to meet his. "He is strong though. I've seen you come out of the training facility with your fair share of cuts and bruises. I don't doubt he'll give some aliens a run for their money."

"He is Saiyan." Raditz also studied the boy with a quizzical expression. He himself had been quite surprised by the strength the small cub possessed. "He can sense ki. It's an advantage, especially when I am without a scouter."

Bulma laughed lightly at the pointed glare he shot her, the scouter laying protectively in her lap. "I've translated it into a language I can understand. I think it should help when I'm on the battlefield. You know, run the other direction when I see something's coming."

"And those little weapons you tamper with all day?" Raditz smirked. "Do you expect those to defend you?"

She nodded. "I do, actually. Sometimes my genius astounds even myself."

He was glad he had not taken to bedding her. Never before had he met someone so pretentious or self-assured. He frowned. No, he could think of someone … He just hoped she died before running into him. If she ran her mouth he'd be sure to silence her for eternity.

When Bulma heard the Saiyan chuckle, she cocked her head to the side. "What? Would like you me to test its strength on you?"

"No thank you. I'd rather not be blasted by rudimentary machinery."

Rolling her eyes, Bulma tampered with the scouter as the control room grew quiet. It was strange how silent space was, even at the speed they were moving. She glanced at the controls, estimating that they would be landing tomorrow evening. She exhaled, her lungs heavy. That meant she only had one more day to prep her weaponry, and that Gohan only had one more day of training with Raditz. She wasn't sure why he'd been helping them, but she knew she owed him thanks.

Of course, if he hadn't come to their planet and demanded that they enter this tournament of he'd kill them they wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place. No, she'd be yelling at Yamcha for joining a women's fitness class and he'd be telling her how he wish she'd pay more attention to him rather than tinkering around in her lab. They would eventually make up, of course, but then it would be back to square one. It was silly now to think that just a few weeks ago that had been the height of her worries.

Funny how she suddenly missed their pointless arguments, almost as much as she missed their days of adventure when he'd been a desert bandit, a bad boy for all intents and purposes, and Goku only an eerily strong native.

She frowned; she'd gotten her wish without the use of the Dragon Balls for the first time. Only this wasn't quite the adventure she'd always envisioned.

* * *

The ground was littered with a paper-thin layer of wet, autumn leaves. He could barely see the grass through the plethora of foliage, and yet his eyes remained fixated on the earth, so intent to avoid the door before him.

"How did I get stuck with this?" He mumbled, lifting his head and staring at the doorway. His hand rose, fist hovering inches from the door, and dropped his arm back to his side with a sigh.

"Goku," he muttered. "I wish for once you could just take responsibility and be a man… C'mon Krillin, you can do this."

In the midst of his pep talk, the door was thrust open and a petite, albeit strong, female blinked curiously at him.

"Krillin? What are you doing here?"

"Uh," he swallowed audibly. "Hi'ya Chichi."

He eyes narrowed. "Where's Goku?" Peering over the shorter man's head her eyes widened with concern. "And where's my Gohan? Oh, those boys… so irresponsible."

"Goku is at the Lookout, catching up with everyone. And Gohan is…" he frowned, "He's with Bulma."

"Is he alright? I don't want him hanging out with her. She's a bad influence. I blame her for the irresponsible way that husband of mine acts…"

"Now Chichi, Bulma's really smart. She's, uh, on vacation. Research. Yeah. She offered to take Gohan to tutor him. Privately. To, uh, help. With the research."

Chichi remained unconvinced. Letting out a long sigh, she rolled her eyes. "I guess I couldn't afford that kind of tutoring. And if Gohan wants to get into a good school, he'll need some recommendations…"

Krillin sighed, finding Chichi's insistence upon Gohan's education a bit ridiculous, but kept all thoughts on this subject to himself. If she could make Goku so nervous that he hadn't want to come himself to deliver the news of her missing son, he certainly did not want to willingly place himself on her list of enemies.

"Well," he waved. "I'm off. We're going to be doing some training at Kami's place so, uh, don't wait up."

Not waiting to hear a reaction, or face any protest, he flew off, leaving the confused woman standing blinking in her doorway. Chichi clutched her hand to her chest.

"Those men are so strange… Definitely a bad influence on Gohan. When he gets back we're setting up some ground rules."

When Krillin was back to safety on the lookout, he glared at Goku. "I told Chichi Gohan was studying with Bulma."

"Thanks Krillin," Goku grinned. "Kami says we'll be able to sense the battle from here. Until the action starts, we should be able to train."

Krillin sighed. "Train for what?"

Shrugging, the tall Saiyan's gaze settled on the setting sun in the distance. Krillin knew such a far-off, serious look on Goku's face was a rarity, but when his somber side showed, it definitely meant you should pay attention. "Whether Gohan comes back on his own accord or we have to wish him back, I don't think we've had our last taste of fighting."

With a frown, the shorter warrior followed his friend into the training facilities. He just hoped when Gohan and Bulma returned Goku would be proven wrong. It just so happened that serious Goku rarely ever was.

* * *

Taking off had been a breeze. Raditz's ship was large enough, and while it definitely wasn't cozy, the strange trio had managed just fine. They had strapped in and prepared for their landing, but Bulma hadn't prepped for the splitting headache from the whiplash she'd endured from their less-than-smooth landing. It was like the moment they'd entered the strange planet's atmosphere they had done nothing but been tossed around until, finally, they collided with the dense soil of planet Ceirus with an unceremonious crash.

"Fuck Raditz!" She screeched, rubbing her soar head. "You're lucky you didn't break my neck!"

"Yes, lucky." He crossed his arms as the pair from Chikyuu gingerly untangled themselves from their belts and assessed their minor injuries. Bulma shook her head, trying to right her jumbled brains. She'd be royally screwed if she lost any of her intellect before the battle, it was really all she had going for her.

"Raditz," Gohan frowned, cocking his head in his uncle's direction. "Are you not getting out?"

"No, I'm afraid this is as far as I go kid."

With a sharp intake of breath, Bulma blinked. Yes, she knew that they'd be left alone and that Raditz would not be participating in the Intergalactic Battle Royale, but the idea of him blasting off so soon, not even unbuckling himself for a stretch or a piss frightened her. They would really be alone, stranded on a world packed with people out for her blood. All to fight an illusive enemy she knew nothing about.

When she'd tried to question Raditz about Lord Frieza he had ignored her questing as he'd disregarded all her attempts at civil conversation.

But now they'd be down one burly Saiyan, and she wished she'd have his protection at least. Sure his modesty and hygiene were lacking, but she was convinced that he wasn't evil. There were even a few times in the evenings when he, Gohan and herself had sat together, joking and laughing like old friends.

"Well then," she forced a smile at the small boy to her right. "Guess it's just you and me kid."

With a nod, Gohan grabbed his backpack and waved goodbye to his uncle. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she spotted a little sadness in Raditz's eyes as he nodded his farewell.

Bulma knew they would be the team with the most equipment; she'd seen the look of surprise on Raditz's face when she'd unveiled capsule technology, but unless she could find a way for them to hide away she was certain that all the materials on planet Chickyuu couldn't keep them safe.

The pair set off in the direction Gohan noted he was sensing a large gathering of ki's. Bulma had laughed when Raditz informed her that there would be an initial meeting of all the participating parties, and that there would be food and absolutely zero killing. While the later comforted her frazzled nerves just a hair, the former made her laugh. It reminded her of the annual Capsule Corps meet-and-greets her father hosted in their back yard for all the new employees. Bulma had fired up the grill and served cocktails as everyone mingled, but she had a tough time picturing the universes' greatest warriors gathering together for a picnic.

"I hope there's barbeque at least," she mumbled.

Gohan laughed. "Do you think they even have barbeque in space?"

She shrugged, smiling at the boy. "Who knows? But, man, I could sure go for some meat right now. All that space-food we've lived on the passed week isn't going to cut it. I'm going to be grumpier than usual."

As the boy beside her slowed to a halt, Bulma paused and peered over her shoulder. "Hey, Gohan, everything okay?"

"Uh…" He frowned, "Yeah. I just… there are so many of them… and they're so strong. Stronger than anything I've ever sensed before."

Taking a few more paces forward, Bulma was met with the sight of hundreds of warriors. She gulped, taking a few steps back and losing her footing. She came crashing down on her backside painfully, and remained immobile on the ground for a few shaky seconds before regaining her composure.

"Gohan," she whispered. "There are so many…"

"They look as strong as the feel," he frowned. "It's like they're not holding anything back."

"I-I thought this was supposed to be a friendly social gathering."

"They don't look too friendly." Gohan noted, eyes fixated on the crowd.

"It's probably more of a time to sit around and scope out the competition," Bulma whispered. "And fill your belly so you're in tip-top shape to fight."

Gohan glanced over at Bulma, who was still staring at the throng of warriors.

She noticed that many donned armor similar to that of Raditz's. She also observed that there were clusters of beefy men and women gathered together, all wearing variations of the same armor, talking and laughing.

"They must be Frieza's soldiers," she said, pointing to the various groups. "They look so uniform, and strong."

"They're much stronger than the others."

Bulma then noticed the groups wearing more rudimentary armor. Many similar to themselves, some wearing only training garbs and nervous expressions.

However, it was the soldiers which Bulma remained so fixated.

"Bulma," Gohan questioned, eyes wide with fear. "They're not going to go easy on us, are they?"

For all it was worth, she wanted desperately to be strong for the boy, and for herself. However, she could feel the fear multiplying in the pit of her gut at the sight of the hundreds of warriors before her. Of course there would be hundreds, there had to be hundreds of thousands, no, hundreds of millions of planets in the universe. She just never imagined so many would be filled with warriors so much stronger than those on Chikyuu, so eager to get a chance at toppling one evil tyrant.

"No Gohan," she whispered, watching as a man in armor similar to Raditz's stood off to the side of the group, arms crossed and expression stoic. How did he seem so at ease? So… bored? She noticed that he wasn't fraternizing with the other soldiers dressed as he was, but watching each of them, gaze cool and calculating as if… Bulma felt her heart sink, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep her panic in check. No, this man was picking out his victims, red scouter donned purposefully across his eye as he took in everyone's power levels, noting who he was going to annihilate first and which poor souls he was saving for last.

It was then that she felt his dark eyes on her, a brow cocking slightly. She wasn't sure if it was confusion or amusement, all she could do was blink dumbly as she felt herself caught in his dark gaze. He was positively terrifying. Then, just like that, he turned his attention away from the pair and was back to studying a group of Frieza's soldiers with distaste.

Just as she suspected, he was more alert than the others. She wasn't sure any of the other fighters had spotted them.

"We're going to have to try our hardest," she finished lamely, her voice a whisper. She was sure they were in far over their heads, but Bulma Briefs was not one to back away from a fight, even if her competition frightened the piss out of her.

Gohan nodded, trying his hardest to be brave, but he too had caught sight of the terrifying soldier stalking them down like prey and though he was certain Bulma could live up to her role as the brains, he was less confident in his own abilities as the tag team's brawn.

* * *

Thank you all so much for the lovely comments on the first chapter! I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive feedback I received for the first chapter. I'm writing this story for my own amusement, but I'm not posting it on for my own health, so it's nice to know people are reading. (and, hopefully, enjoying) As always, feel free to suggest anything, especially if you feel it would improve my writing and storytelling abilities.

The next chapter is when the 'action' starts. I've been cooped up (bored) in a hotel room in Houston, Texas for a conference with nothing but a laptop and an extra-large pack of peanut M&Ms I bought at the gift shop for SEVEN dollars, so I'll probably be getting the next chapter out shortly...

-Lady Lan


	3. Chapter 3

Two hours in the wilderness and she could already feel half-moons of dirt caking inside her nails. Bulma tried taking deep breaths, she tried counting, everything, but none of it served to calm her frazzled nerves.

Her entire body shook with exhaustion, and after casting a glance at her small companion, she could tell he was just as tired. They had left as soon as the meet-and-greet was over, taking Raditz's advice and removing themselves from the makeshift arena the majority of the men and women had gathered around. Laying low seemed the best option for the duo, so they took off, on foot, giving Bulma a chance to scour the planet and Gohan the opportunity to concentrate his energy on sensing the battle.

Bulma could tell by the pallor of his complexion that it must have been a blood bath, and while the kid was innocent enough to find horror in the situation he was so focused on, she was relishing in the thought of their competition being slimmed so quickly.

"I guess this is as good a place as any," she shrugged, fishing into her satchel and puling out a capsule. This was enough space to put between themselves and battle. She tossed it into a clearing and, with a pop, it revealed a small dome shaped shelter. "Our home away from home, Gohan."

He couldn't help but grin as they stepped into the modern housing unit. Bulma opened the fridge and pulled a soda out for herself, offering the contents to the wide-eyed boy. Though it was only a capsule home, Bulma only traveled in style – this was certainly more luxury than the boy was used to.

"We're probably going to be the only ones to have air-conditioning around here," she took a seat on the couch, expression thoughtful. "I hope that doesn't paint a target on our backs."

Gohan joined her on the couch, sinking into the plushness of it and sitting up straight. Bulma smiled at the awkward child, who seemed so uncomfortable.

"Everything okay Gohan?"

"Yeah," he answered, staring off into space. "I can't believe how fast they're dying."

Again, Bulma inwardly cheered. "That's a good thing kid, it means there's less people out to get us."

"It also means only the strongest are left."

"Oh. Right."

"That guy saw us," he continued, meeting her eyes. "The others were busy talking and laughing, but he looked right at me."

"Yeah," she whispered. "I saw him."

"Some of those guys were really scary looking aliens, big and creepy, but he was the most terrifying. He'll remember us."

"Unless someone gets to him first."

Gohan sighed. "So what do we do while we're sitting ducks?"

"Uh," Bulma forced a smile. "I brought DVD's and there's popcorn."

His expression remained unmoved and she nudged his shoulder playfully. "Or we can always study."

"A movie sounds good."

* * *

Idiots, the lot of them.

He watched as a green woman with large, yellow fangs fought a burly humanoid with mild interest. They were weaklings as far as he was concerned, and as he surveyed his surroundings his scouter revealed that the rest of them were hardly competition.

Unfolding the arms that had been pressed against his chest plate, he once again scanned the crowd looking for a sign of Cui. For years he'd been itching to remove the smug smile off the purple bastard's face, and now that he finally had an opportunity Cui was nowhere to be seen.

Frieza would have had him severely punished if he'd lashed out at Cui, one of his elite warriors, before, but now, with both of them here to serve as "spies" for their Lord, he would face no repercussions of driving Cui's bloody corpse into the soil of whatever backwards planet this happened to be.

Though a large group of Frieza's soldiers had jumped at a chance of this tournament, whether it be out of hatred for their lord or the pure joy of fighting, a few other more elite warriors, such as Cui and himself, had been intermixed to put an end to the insubordination. While Cui may have wholeheartedly supported the cause and been more than happy to eliminate anyone who dared speak against Frieza, Vegeta had ulterior motives. Yes, he was eager to get his hands dirty, but mostly he took it as a chance to strengthen himself and earn a chance to fight Frieza. He figured he would either die on this planet or come out alive and stronger than ever. Both were positive alternatives to the miserable existence he'd experienced living as a purger under Lord Frieza.

He tapped the side of his scouter, trying to search out Cui's signal, but once again met with the familiar indicator of Raditz's scouter. His brows narrowed in confusion, there had to be a mistake… Earlier that day he had sensed the same signal, and he had turned to chew the insubordinate Saiyan out for breaking the rules and joining him on the planet, when instead he found the scouter in the possession of a powerless little female. He had thought it to be a mistake, the signal must have been off and it wasn't in fact Radtiz's scouter, but then he noticed the small boy shaking at her side. He frowned, a small boy with a tail that looked eerily Saiyan.

He knew it was impossible, but still, as he studied the trembling brat he could see some resemblance of Raditz and was at once angered and amused by the Saiyan's coupling. Surely he was seeing things.

The woman blasted a gaping hole through the brawny man's sternum, and after he dropped to the ground with an unceremonious plop, the crowd cheered as she lifted her green arms in triumph. Vegeta rolled his eyes as another battle was quickly underway. The idea was that everyone was awarded one fight, cutting the competition in half, and then they would disperse for the hunting, the real fun, to begin.

He remained unmoved until it was his turn to battle, an armor-less man with coarse blue fur. With a smirk, Vegeta levitated off the ground.

"Since I'm in such a good mood today I'm going to give you the first move."

His opponent's feet remained planted firmly on the ground as he began gathering energy.

"Funny Vegeta, I didn't think you were ever in a good mood," the man said, releasing the blast, which Vegeta dodged by cocking his head to one side with a laugh.

In a flash, he was behind the man, pinning his arms behind his back as he murmured in protest. With a small blast hovering inches from his outstretched middle and forefinger, Vegeta smirked.

"On the contrary, putting an end to your miserable existence is quite the pick-me-up."

With that, he released the pinprick of energy against the man's shoulder blade. Vegeta dropped the limp body face first, and his smirk remained intact at the roar of applause that erupted once the dust had settled around the fallen man's corpse.

* * *

Her hand slid from the bridge of her nose to her eye, two of her finger pressing lightly into her shut sockets before catching the edge of her cheek and falling from her face to the floor. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling from her position on the couch. Turning her head slightly, she could see Gohan sitting on the recliner with a textbook perched on his lap. She released a noisy sigh and, when the small boy didn't give her any indication that he'd heard her she pursed her lips and forced out a rather unlady-like noise.

"Gohan," she whined, reaching for her diet soda. "I'm bored."

The Saiyan glanced up from his book. "I'm sorry Bulma. You could try building something."

"I've been making things for a week Gohan," she moaned. It had not escaped her attention that she was complaining to a child, but he had been her sole company for nearly a week. She thought someone would have at least been on their way to kill them by now. "I've nearly run out of raw materials, and I've taken apart too many small appliances. The toaster's shot and I'm unwilling to part with the coffee pot." She frowned. "Though there's not much to wake up to, really."

He shut his textbook and slid off the couch. "Well, we can make dinner if you'd like."

She turned her attention to the digital alarm above the television and frowned. Sure, it was evening Chikyuu-time, but the cycles on this planet had completely thrown her off. There were forty-or-so hour periods of brightness and darkness, as the planet had two suns and zero moons. She'd decided that the absence of a moon was to her advantage having a tailed Saiyan hanging around, but the long days and nights disrupted any chance she had at maintaining a normal routine.

So even though it was technically dinnertime, it looked more like midmorning outside. "How about breakfast?"

Gohan grinned and nodded eagerly. He rather liked living with Bulma; though she was loud and vulgar and bossy sometimes, she was fun and free spirited. While his mom had kept him on a rigorous schedule, Bulma was far more laid back. She joked with him and let him have dessert whenever he wanted, and she never made him study vocabulary words.

Truthfully, she'd become more of a sister than a maternal figure, even though she was older than his mother.

"Breakfast?" He asked, following her into the kitchenette. "We've already had lunch."

"Oh," she grinned, pointing the whisk at him. "So you're saying you don't want some of my world-famous chocolate chip pancakes?"

His smile widened as she poured the entire bag of chocolate chips into the batter, which was a hefty total considering his Saiyan appetite.

She licked the whisk when she was done stirring and Gohan prepared the pan.

Bulma wasn't a bad cook. Actually, she viewed cooking a bit like chemistry – she could follow recipes to the T, making no mistakes, everything perfectly measured and cooked on the exact time, precise heat. However, she simply didn't posses the art of cookery. She hadn't the knack Chichi had for substituting her own ingredients and altering recipes with her own flair to make the dishes even better.

But Gohan would never refuse her chocolate chip pancakes.

They were seated at the table, Bulma talking aloud, trying to come up with some sort of calendar system when Gohan's small form stiffened.

"What?" She asked, brows knitting together. "Everything okay?"

He swallowed audibly and sat down his fork. "Someone's coming. Stay inside, okay Bulma?"

She froze, panicked, and cursed her earlier musings on a more exciting time here. "Gohan," she whispered, staring at the boy who now stood by the door, chest puffed slightly, shoulders back, as though improving his posture would improve his strength.

Though he was a thousand times stronger than her, Bulma knew there was no way she was going to let him fight alone. Gathering her bag and capsulated weapons, Bulma followed the boy outside against his wishes.

"Bulma, I'm probably going to have to fight. I can't protect you."

Rolling her eyes, Bulma retrieved a ki gun and clipped on her scouter. "I think you're forgetting who's here to protect who, little guy."

Before he could retort, a slim man with yellow hair slicked-back into a low ponytail landed in front of the pair. Gohan froze and Bulma frowned at his unwashed appearance. Apparently not everyone had the afforded luxury of soap and running water.

With a light chuckle, the man studied Gohan and Bulma. "And just what planet are you two delicate things from? When my scouter picked up two puny power levels I would never have guessed they belonged to a woman and child."

Launching himself into fighting stance, Gohan growled. "I'm giving you a chance to leave here in peace. I won't harm you if you get up now and go back to wherever you came from."

Bulma blinked at the stern confidence in his voice; she noted the resemblance to his father as he stood, fists clinched ready to attack.

The man's laughter reverberated amongst the trees lining their hiding place. "Is that a threat brat? Well, I assure you, I'm up for the challenge."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, the small boy launched himself towards the man so quickly all Bulma could make out was a yellow blur. She tried her hardest to watch as the pair took into the air, exchange blows, but she could only assume Gohan was winning when the pair descended to the ground and the man was panting heavily.

He smiled at Gohan. "You're good kid. Better than I gave you credit for. It also seems you've the ability to suppress your power level. An interesting trick I will attempt to master as soon as I'm done with you."

Lifting his palm, the man gathered an aqua energy blast and hurled it towards Gohan. Jumping into the air, he easily dodged the attack but craned his neck to watch as the blast passed below him and crashed into the capsule house.

"Gohan!" Bulma shrieked. "You idiot! Our house! Look what you've done!"

Ignoring her shouts, Gohan quickly retaliated by gathering a blast of his own and launching it towards the blond man. Before he could dodge the attack, the blast hit him in the arm, blasting it clear off.

Bulma stared wide-eyed as the left limb lay bloodied on the dirt. She swallowed, trying her hardest to suppress the bile that rose to her throat. She'd never seen someone maimed so grotesquely before, but she had to hand it to Gohan as he quickly put himself together and leapt towards the man, punching so quickly that Bulma had to once again rely on her scouter.

She could tell the man's energy was quickly depleting, and she wondered if Gohan had it in him to finish him off. She knew his father had never been one to fight to the death, and, as the man dropped to the ground and Gohan hovered over his unconscious body, he was to do the same.

Panting, Gohan lowered himself to the ground. He gently nudged the man's side and, seeing that he was still breathing but not in any shape to retaliate, turned to Bulma.

"I guess our house is gone."

She turned from the shocking sight before her to the mass of rubble that was once their home. With an angry expression, she turned back to the boy.

"We'll have to relocate anyway. I can fly us somewhere else and we can set up camp. We have a lot of time before he wakes up."

Bulma could only manage to nod.

"Hey Bulma," Gohan asked, eyes remaining on his competition, sprawled out, face first on the ground. "Do you think he'll come after us?"

"Honestly," Bulma whispered, adjusting her bag and moving towards the boy. "I think someone else will just finish him off. He's out cold, an easy target for anyone who sensed this battle."

"I'm sure they'll be able to do what I couldn't."

Bulma smiled, placing a hand on his small shoulder. "Gohan, that was noble of you to stop. You fought very well, even if you did blow up our house."

With a nod, the boy picked her up and took into the air. "And Bulma?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the pancakes."

* * *

It had been days since Gohan's fight with the nameless soldier, but Bulma wasn't sure how many. The only other capsule home she'd brought with them was half the size and clock-less. Not to mention its absence of wondrous things such as a coffee pot and indoor plumbing.

No, this house was sparse and small and her boredom had increased ten-fold. Not that she wanted to run into anyone else after their last encounter to add to the excitement.

Although, she thought, dying would ensure she'd be brought back with the Dragon Balls…

To cure the temporary monotony, Bulma wandered through the woods, exploring the strange and exotic vegetation. She wondered which plants were edible, which were poisonous, and which could cure wounds and diseases. She thought she might enjoy exploring the planet had she not been in constant fear of her life.

Gohan was off bathing in their stream, and he could spend hours swimming around, talking to the fish, doing nothing but enjoying nature. Bulma rolled her eyes. She, on the other hand, was sick and tired of having to bathe herself in the freezing water and making the trip back alone, cold and miserable.

She missed the comfort of their shower and her fluffy white towel. Both of which had been blasted to a million pieces.

"I want a shower!" She shouted, voice echoing against the dense foliage. "And _why_ can't those idiots just wish me back alive and well – right this instant. Can you here me? Wish me back! I want to be back on Chikyuu! Arg."

She was suddenly jolted from her tantrum when her scouter flashed that Vegeta was approaching.

Confused, she tapped the screen. "Vegeta?" She whispered. What's a Vegeta?

The sound of a deep chuckle brought her attention away from the dark green screen to a man a few yards in front of her leaning casually against a tree.

"Yes?" He asked, smirk donning his features.

"Are you," she swallowed, trying to steady to her voice. She wanted to appear strong and brave, but she was sure he could hear the quiver in her voice. "Vegeta?"

"Hn." He stood up straight, no longer relying on the tree for support, and she noted that he wasn't as tall as she'd originally thought when she'd first seen him. There was no mistaking it; he was the man who had seen her on their first day on planet Cerius. The man haunting her nightmares for weeks.

"My scouter," she frowned. "It said you were approaching."

"Correction: Raditz's scouter said I was approaching."

"Oh," she could feel the corners of her mouth lifting towards a smile. "Are you a friend of Raditz?"

"Sorry woman," his smirked grew. "I don't have any friends."

With a step back, Bulma reached behind her, fingers locking around the gun she'd tucked between her rear and the waistband of her skirt.

Holding her breath, she whipped the gun around, squeezed the trigger, and prayed.

In retrospect, shooting blindly probably wouldn't ensure the best results, not to mention her hands were hardly steady, but after the sound of the blast and some exploding rubble in the distance, Bulma cracked open one eye to levy the damage.

He had moved to the right of the blast and she could see the confusion etched on his features, head twisted towards the smoke billowing in the distance from the blast's impact on an unfortunate boulder.

Slowly, his attention turned back towards Bulma, whose hands remained outstretched, clutching the gun, and his confusion melted into amusement. With a deep chuckle, the soldier raked her figure, eyes stopping at the outstretched weapon and darting slightly away from her heaving chest.

"Interesting bit of machinery."

In mid-blink, he was behind her, pinning her arms against her side. She could feel his warm, steady breath against her cheek. He chuckled, reveling in her fear.

Clutching both of her fragile wrists in one hand, Vegeta brought his free hand to her slender neck, encompassing the pale skin with his gloved fingers.

"You will pay dearly for attacking a Saiyan elite."

Before he could snap her neck, Bulma pressed the gun against his side and squeezed the trigger.

Cursing, he fell to his knees, releasing her to clutch his injured side. Without taking a second to assess the extent of his injuries, Bulma took off running, dodging trees with speed she hadn't known she'd possessed.

When she was fairly sure she was lost without any chance of making her way back to Gohan, she stopped to catch her breath. Placing both hands on her hips she sighed in relief. Her scouter gave her no indication that Vegeta was coming after her and she tucked the gun back into the band of her skirt.

She was surprised by the success of her weaponry. Bulma had seen first had what it had done to the boulder, reducing it to a pile of rubble, and then bringing a Saiyan to his knees.

That brought her grand total of Saiyan acquaintances to four, and this Vegeta was by far the scariest of the bunch. While Radtiz's intimidation had come from his sheer size and Neanderthal looks, Vegeta exuded darkness. She could feel the shiver threatening the base of her spine. He'd be pissed when he'd recovered, and she was more than sure he'd come seeking revenge.

And Vegeta was certainly not someone she'd wanted to make an enemy of. If Raditz was stronger than Goku, and Raidtz said the Saiyan in the tournament was stronger than he, she couldn't fathom the amount of power he possessed.

One of the suns of Cerius was currently positioned directly above her, while the other skirted on the distant horizon. She could feel the sweat gathering under her breasts and she wanted to remove the more constricting parts of her ensemble.

Fighting the urge to complain aloud, Bulma shielded her eyes with the palm of her hand and continued her trek aimlessly through the wilderness. She was fairly certain she was walking in circles when she stumbled upon a patch of blue flowers for the third time. With a sigh, she kicked a rock into the mound and started back in the opposite direction.

She'd made it twenty or so paces when her scouter registered a power level heading in her direction. This time, however, it didn't send out a friendly warning that an acquaintance was heading her way, and she remained planted until a creature with skin the color of swamp water and the texture of cement came into view.

Taking two steps back before turning and running, Bulma found herself once again darting trees and leaping over roots through the unfamiliar forest.

"It's official, I'm going to die today…"

The creature snorted, and she turned her head slightly to watch as it lower its head, baring stubbed horns.

"What _is _that thing?" She muttered, but kept her pace.

Her knees began to wobble and her side cramp, but she continued to sprint through the dense foliage. Hurdling another fallen branch, Bulma then saw a man lying before her, and, without giving it much thought, leapt over him as well.

Vegeta turned his head and saw the disgusting creature heading in his direction. Though the woman had avoided him he doubted he would afford him the same courtesy. From his position on the ground, he lifted his hand and blasted the being.

Turning, wide eyed, to the scene before her, Bulma panted, placing both hands on her knees as her lungs fought for air.

"Xerion. Disgusting bastards."

"Tha-thank you," she said, glancing down at the bloodied, beaten Saiyan. Though his armor was tattered and his pride bruised, he was still intact. "For saving my life."

"It wasn't for your benefit."

She nodded. "I know. Intentional or not, you still saved me."

"And now, woman, I'm going to make you pay."

Though his voice was deep and threatening, Bulma was not intimidated as he tried to steady himself. Placing one of his hands on his knees, he narrowed his thick brows before he swayed and his legs gave out.

Rushing to his side, Bulma attempted to steady him, but he buckled to his knees and slumped awkwardly against her. She sunk to the ground with him, a look of concern gracing her features and he snarled at her.

She did not belong here. And yet, there she was alive and well when he was a pathetic mass of useless limbs. And she had brought him down dishonorably with machinery. It was maddening.

Glancing over his injuries, Bulma slid her arms off his shoulders and watched as he fought, and lost, consciousness. With a sigh, she got to her feet and pulled at the bulky man's arms.

"An eye for an eye, I guess."

And without full knowledge of what possessed her to do so, Bulma dragged the unconscious man back to her and Gohan's encampment.

* * *

I apologize for all the corny "battle talk". That's just how I picture boys getting. And I'm shit at writing fight scenes so there's got to be a little dialogue peppered in otherwise it'd just be unbearable.

Also, what color is Vegeta's scouter? I've been writing 'red' because it just seems a little manlier than 'magenta'. Eh.

Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers. You make my day.


	4. Chapter 4

"But…" His eyes remained wide saucers; confusion filled the white orbs as he watched her. "Bulma… but… He's going to kill us when he wakes up."

She tugged once more on the stranger's arm, his bulky frame laying halfway into the entryway of their makeshift house. With a sigh, she dusted her hands off on her skirt. "_If _he wakes up. Now give me hand."

As Gohan easily lifted the larger man onto the couch, Bulma rolled her shoulders back. Dragging Vegeta's unconscious body had been quite a workout and she could feel the strain of previously un-worked muscles. She would be sore tomorrow and she hoped she had something to show for it.

Even out of it, the Saiyan looked troubled. She frowned as she watched one of his eyebrows twitch and a muscle jump at the corner of his mouth. Silently praying it was out of pain rather than anger, Bulma decapsulated her medical supplies and set them on the coffee table.

"I…" Gohan protested, his small voice catching in his throat. Had the stress of the planet finally caught up with his comrade? Was she insane? "But…"

Bulma sighed, hearing the objection in the young boys stutters. "He saved my life, and I couldn't just leave him to die in the middle of the forest."

"We left that other guy who tried to kill us."

"But he saved me," she said, not removing her attention from the Saiyan. "Plus, he knows Raditz. And besides," Bulma smiled, her eyes scanning the tanned flesh and taut muscles beneath the chunks of missing armor. "He's kind of cute."

Well, she thought to herself as she cut away the spandex to better reveal the damage to his side she'd inflicted, it _had_ been far too long since she'd had a decent piece of eye candy. Shaking her head, Bulma reminded herself that the reason he was here was because they needed him.

"Look Gohan," Bulma said as she began rubbing ointment on his burnt flesh. Trying to keep all naughty thoughts in check, she pointed to the tail wrapped around his waist. "See? He has a tail just like you, your dad and Raditz."

"You're right Bulma," Gohan studied the tail nervously. "He must be the Saiyan Raditz was talking about."

"My scouter said he was approaching." Removing her hands from the deliciously solid skin of his torso, she carefully wrapped the Saiyan's side and pulled away. "His name's Vegeta. If I left him, he was just going track us down and kill us, so I figured if we could convince him to be our ally when he wakes up we might stand a chance."

"Vegeta," Gohan repeated, the name rolling off his tongue. He was thoroughly unconvinced that Bulma could possibly be the most intelligent female from their home planet, but maybe she had a point. If Raditz was willing to help them, maybe he was as well.

"Well I had a terrible day, thanks to you," she said, glaring at the small boy as she stood up. "And I can't even take a nice, hot shower before bed. So I'm going to try and get some sleep. Let me know when he wakes up."

Gohan watched as Bulma retreated to her room with a slam of the door. Averting his attention to the unconscious Saiyan, he nervously scratched his head. With a sigh, he grabbed a textbook and perched himself on the loveseat cattycorner to the sleeping warrior. It took a lot of effort to study to words on the page; suddenly memorizing the periodic table seemed trivial when he was moments away from an inevitable death. How could Bulma remain so positive? She was always looking for the next tool to keep them alive, the next ally to ensure their safety. What did it matter if you stayed alive four days or four weeks on this planet, when, in the end, they were going to die and get wished back to Chikyuu just the same?

And then he remembered how angry Bulma had been when she'd been left on the Lookout. Her friends had told her she was liability. His father had once told him that Bulma was one of the key players in saving their planet so many times before, that she was unbelievably brave and strong, the reason for the Dragon Radar and his father's adventures, and yet she'd been reduced to a nuisance. Maybe she was trying to prove something - herself.

Gohan sighed, letting the book lay dormant on his lap. For a boy of his age, he thought, he was pretty insightful. Resting his head on his arm, he allowed his eyes to drift shut.

Though it seemed just as suddenly as his eyes had closed, he was awaked by a sudden surge of a familiar power level.

"Bulma!" He screamed, as he was confronted by a furious Vegeta. After being tossed from his seat on the couch, Gohan regained his composure only to have his throat caught between the powerful clutches of the Saiyan warrior and his back pressed against the wall with such force that it left a dent in the metal.

His swallowed as he took in the look in Vegeta's dark eyes.

"Hold it right there Mister!" Bulma's voice called from the doorway.

Gohan watched as she narrowed her eyes dangerously, finger on the trigger of one of her guns, looking quite intimidating for a woman with disheveled blue hair, in only her panties and a sleep shirt.

"Put the boy down!"

Vegeat turned his murderous glare to the woman in the doorway, her arms extended as she pointed the Ki-gun in his direction.

"_You_!" His voice was grave and dangerous. He dropped Gohan to the floor, not noticing how he massaged his tender throat before shifting into a fighting stance. "You bitch! Your death will be slow and torturous for what you've done to the Saiyan elite!"

"I'll shoot you again," she shouted, finger squeezing the trigger. "And don't think I'll be so kind as to bandage you up again, pal."

It was then that Vegeta's eyes darted to his repaired side. The quality of the wrap was impeccable and he could already feel it healing.

Catching his surprise, Bulma loosened the grip on her gun. "Look, can we just talk this out like a couple of adults?"

His attention snapped back to the woman standing before him and he frowned. _Talk_? This blasted woman was interested in having a conversation with him after she'd just threatened to blow his head off?

"And what do you want to talk about, woman?"

She smiled slightly, still not letting go of her gun. "Gohan and I could really use an ally. We've made it this far, but it's been by the skin of our teeth."

"That's absurd. What is there possibly to gain from joining forces with the likes of you?"

"Well," Bulma shrugged, as though it were an honest question that deserved answering. "We've got plenty of food and shelter, if you hadn't noticed."

"Yes," Vegeta could feel a vein twitch in his forehead. "I noticed you brought an ungodly amount of shit with you here to die."

"Look," Bulma said, lowering the weapon to her side. "It's been a long day. Why don't I make some coffee and we discuss this like decent people, okay?"

Vegeta did not qualify as 'decent people', but he frowned and followed her into the small kitchenette anyway. Bulma removed three coffee mugs and waited for the water to finish boiling on the stove. With a nervous glance over her shoulder, she found the Saiyan waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and one of his ankles tucked over the other. Trying to calm her shaking hands, Bulma poured a tablespoon of powder into each mug and set them on the table.

"It's instant since our coffee pot was destroyed with our last house, but it'll do."

Vegeta stared down at the foul-smelling contents of the mug with distaste and Gohan frowned.

"I'm not allowed to have caffeine."

"So, you're Vegeta," Bulma began, her voice steady and casual as the Saiyan glared at her from across the table. "I know that because my scouter so kindly informed me that you were approaching. I'm Bulma, and this is Gohan."

"And just how in the seven hells did you end up in possession of that scouter?" He demanded, brows knitting together, purposefully choosing to ignore her feeble attempt at an introduction.

"Raditz gave it to me."

"Why?"

"Uh," Bulma lifted a finger to her chin as she thought. "I'm pretty sure it was so that I would shut up."

"And why the fuck did he not inform me that he had a mate and brat?" He mused. Raditz and he didn't spend their time off sharing secrets and all the intimate details of their lives, but surely something like this was worth filling him in on. "And then that idiot allows you two weaklings into this tournament. It's preposterous!"

"Ew." Bulma's nose scrunched at his words. "Raditz is _not _my mate."

"And the brat?"

"Raditz's nephew. Go-" she rolled her eyes, "Kakarott? He's Kakarott's son."

His brow furrowed. Raditz's brother was alive? It was strange, another living Saiyan besides Nappa, Raditz, Tarble and himself. He glanced towards the boy.

"So then there are compatible species." He grimaced. "Too bad they are so disgusting."

"Yeah, well, don't flatter yourself."

"I cannot believe even Kakarott would lower himself to mate with such a weakling…"

"Kakarott's wife is not a weakling! In fact, she's the strongest woman on our planet. I don't doubt she would do a number on you if she found out you were talking about her husband and son that way." Bulma smiled at the thought of an angered Chichi. She probably wouldn't even back down to a frightening man like Vegeta if it meant defending her family.

He paused, unsure why the news that she was not the brat's mother pleased him. If she wasn't the boy's mother, then why was she here at all?

"Look," Bulma sighed. "All I know is we're as good as dead out here, and I really don't want you as an enemy. So stick around for a while, I can finish healing your burns in the morning and you'll be good as new."

"Plus," Gohan grinned. "Bulma makes the best chocolate chip pancakes!"

"I will rest here tonight," Vegeta began, eyes sliding closed as he crossed his arms. "And eat in the morning. And if I decide to spare your lives in return for your hospitality do not think for one second it is because I am your ally. It would be suicide to link myself to a powerless female and a weak brat. Consider yourself lucky you have some Saiyan blood coursing your veins, otherwise you might not be so fortunate as to receive my generosity."

With that, the proud warrior left the stunned pair at the table and laid back down on the couch. Bulma and Gohan exchanged a glance and the boy shrugged. At least they were alive, for now at least.

* * *

"I'm going to take a break from training," Goku said to his friends who were sparing on the lookout.

"Yeah," Yamcha nodded, dusting his hands off his orange training gi. "I'll join you."

Though he and Bulma were no longer dating, he still felt he had a lot invested in her well-being. Regardless of whether they were "on" or "off", they were always friends. Besides, just because they were currently going through a rough time didn't mean they weren't going to be together once she was back home.

The pair made the silent trek to Kami who was looking over the planet with a distant look.

"So?" Goku asked, the question dancing in his eyes.

Kami nodded, "I can feel their powerlevels."

"Yeah," Yamcha said, searching for the familiar kis of Bulma and Gohan. "They seem fine."

"There's another strong power level near them at the moment, but it doesn't appear that they're in any danger." Kami closed his eyes. "They are safe, for the time being."

Goku felt his son's dormant energy and nodded. Though he was obliged to the motto "safety first", he was more than a little curious to see what his son could do.

* * *

The following morning Bulma was awakened by Gohan repeaditly poking her shoulder. Rubbing her eyes with a growl, she blinked.

"What Gohan?"

"Uh, Vegeta wants breakfast."

With an exasperated sigh, Bulma threw off her covers and started towards her closet. "Give me five minutes."

As she dressed, she found she was quite surprised he had stayed the night. She brushed her teeth and pulled back her hair, and bounced into the living room with a smile on her face.

"Good morning."

"Hn," the Sayian breathed, not bothering to look at her.

"Morning Bulma," Gohan responded, opening the refrigerator to pull out a carton of orange juice.

She began preparing breakfast, trying to remain calm under the threatening gaze of the foreign warrior. He was quite intimidating, and she turned her back to his dark stare.

Vegeta wasn't entirely sure why he bothered sticking around either. Yes, last night's rest on the couch had been the best sleep he'd had since he'd landed on this planet, possibly the best sleep he could ever remember. He'd never been afforded a particularly comfortable bed in all his years under Frieza, not that he'd ever complained. He'd scoff at lesser warriors who needed soft beds and plush pillows before, but now that he felt the absence of sore muscles he wasn't sure he wouldn't mind making a habit of it.

He'd convinced himself this morning that the woman's meal would be their payment for him not slaughtering them in their sleep. Feasting off raw, wild game was nothing compared to a home cooked meal. Another luxury he'd temporarily tolerate.

The truth was, he wasn't sure why he didn't feel inclined to kill the weak pair. They were an odd duo, the lusty woman with her stupid hair and ridiculous clothes and a half-Saiyan brat, but here he was joining them for breakfast.

"Let me get you some syrup," she said, placing a large plate of pancakes in front of him. "If your appetite is anything like the Saiyans I know, I guess I should start a second batch…"

He ignored her attempts at small talk and devoured the meal with the grace of a prince and the fervor of a Saiyan. Bulma just stood by dumbly, clutching the bottle of syrup in her hand as she watched him eat.

"Well, your manners are better than Son-kun, that's for sure."

After a silence settled between the trio, Bulma cleared her throat. "You dress like the other soldiers that are here. Do you work for Frieza?"

Looking up from his meal, his brows narrowed over his dark eyes. Bulma leaned back in her chair at the force of his glare. He was every bit as frightening as she'd remembered him being on their first day on this planet. Why had she let herself forget the tremor one look from him shot down her spine? Did she really think they could work together? The oxygen on this planet must be killing her brain cells…

"The armor is of Saiyan model. That bastard simply copied and reproduced its superior design."

"Ah," Bulma nodded, cocking her head to the side. "This Frieza guy's pretty smart, hm? I'll give him credit for that."

"Frieza is an idiot. Give him credit for nothing."

Bulma shrugged. "I mean, gathering all his enemies together to fight one another rather than banding together to destroy him. It's kind of genius, if you ask me. At the end only one or two will stand against him and it will be nothing compared to the force we could stand if we were all trying to fight him together."

He chuckled. "It seems I've underestimated your intellect, woman. Not many have seen the strategy in this little plan of his. No matter, I'll have no need for backstabbers and weaklings once I defeat Frieza and take my rightful place on the throne, and I certainly don't want anyone's help in taking him down."

She glanced down at her hands. "It's a shame. You could have some real allies, people who would support you for toppling Frieza."

"Like I said, I have no use for them. Besides, I'm the only one here who deserves to behead that bastard for all that he's done."

"I guess they would be less than loyal subject," she sighed. "Still, it seems like a shame."

He chuckled lightly, and she watched as a smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth. "No matter, you'll be dead by the time this is all sorted out."

She shrugged, piling up the dishes and he blinked. Was she that sure of her immanent death?

"Well, this has been fun, but I'm going to go put a dint in the pile of brainless bastards left roaming this planet." With that Vegeta rose from the table and left. Bulma followed him outside, her fist clenched before her and watched as he blasted into the air without a glance back.

Gohan came outside as he felt Vegeta's energy depart.

"Good plan, Bulma."

"Oh shut up Gohan." She responded with a frown. "We're alive, aren't we?"

"For the time being."

She rubbed his head, musing his hair, watching the retreating frame in the distance. "For the time being…"

* * *

A big thank you to everyone who took the time to review!

I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer to come out … I spent so much time trying to rework the summary and I've got nothing. Oh well.

Also, don't think for one second this is the last we'll see of our favorite prince. I've got too much planned for that lovable jerk!

-LL


	5. Chapter 5

Stomach full and pride at least partially restored, Vegeta concentrated on a group of Frieza's soldiers that had gathered a ten or so kilometers from his current position. He hoped they were gathering to slaughter one other and not conversing over an open fire like those idiots had a tendency to do. Cui was his real motive; since he'd been denied any sort of entertainment, i.e. murder, the previous day, his fingers were itching to remove that smug smile off the particular warrior's face.

Having to withhold an audible groan, Vegeta touched down in the clearing only to find six warriors in regulation battle armor, some with significant chunks blasted away, seated around a bonfire in the midst of a tête-à-tête.

For fuck's sake…

"Vegeta," one of the soldiers commented as he landed a few meters away. "Good to see you're still here."

"Hn."

It was not good for any of them that he was still alive and well, especially when he was so royally pissed off, but Vegeta crossed his arms and studied the group before him without another sound.

Simone, a greasy blond warrior Vegeta wasn't particularly fond of, not that was Vegeta was particularly fond of anybody, turned from him and continued his story.

"-and then the runt just flipped out and actually gave me a run for my money. I could have taken him if I'd been better prepared, but I was caught off guard. I didn't know the brat had it in him."

"And that's when you lost your arm?" a scaly man asked, blinking his beady eyes in disbelief.

Simone gave a solemn nod, and frowned. "I'm pretty sure they can control their power levels. My scouter reading jumped as soon as he began to power up."

At this, Vegeta's interest in their mundane conversation perked. He'd been fairly sure that the Saiyan Halfling was hiding his power level and that the woman was … no, she must have just been weak. Even in their brief battle she'd resorted to using weaponry against him, her power level never exceeding five or six. He scuffed. And yet he was still wounded by her…

"What I don't understand," a bearded humanoid commented, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. "Was why they left you alive if you were so obviously defeated."

Staring heatedly at his useless stump of an arm, Simone shrugged. "I think they were being … nice."

"Are you going to go back and finish them off?"

"No," Simone shook his head as if to emphasize the point. "Wherever they went, I'm sure they're long gone by now. The next person they came across wouldn't make the stupid mistake I did and underestimate them."

At this, Vegeta's brows furrowed. "This woman, did she have blue hair?"

Simone's head shot up and he nodded vigorously. "Yes Prince Vegeta. Have you come across them?"

His real question hung in the air, but everyone else seated around the fire could feel it: were they still on planet Cirius, waiting to face another day?

Vegeta sighed into what had felt like perpetual night, knowing that they had another forty or so hours of it. He'd been wrong to leave the woman and brat alive, but he wouldn't admit that to the idiots before him. "Yes. We had a brief encounter, but all my limbs remained intact."

Simone blushed as another warrior cleared his throat. "So, they're gone then?"

With a shrug, Vegeta turned his attention to the flickering of the campfire's flame. "No."

The bearded humanoid raised his brows with a chuckle. "Well then, this woman – worth it to get a little something from her first?"

All the warriors broke out into a knowing chuckle apart from Vegeta as Simone nodded vigorously. "She's definitely worth keeping around, that's for sure."

Vegeta simply smirked. He'd only hoped to be there when one of these idiots tried their luck mounting her while she blasted them away with her impressive machinery.

He'd retreated from their conversation as the lowly warriors began to engage in what he could only classify as gossip about which other suitable females were left. To Vegeta it seemed a strange notion to allow a female and male from each planet to enter, but he hadn't voiced his opinion. By default, he'd been the only Saiyan to sign up; though Raditz had joked he could coax Nappa into a dress if it meant assisting their prince.

"Where is Cui?" Vegeta interrupted.

One of the soldiers shrugged. "Haven't seen him."

"None of you are to touch him," Vegeta said, standing up and removing himself from the circle. Before blasting off into the night air, he glared threateningly at the warriors. "Cui is mine."

* * *

"And," Bulma sighed longingly as she stared into the sky. "I miss hot baths."

It really was a beautiful sight, she decided. The nightfall on this planet was long and dark, but there were benefits of the desolation of what she'd previously regarded as a barren wasteland. With no bright lights or infrastructure, and the position of nearby moons, planets, and distant specks of light in the cosmos made for a breathtaking sight. She blinked, taking in a view unlike anything she'd seen back on Chikyuu.

"Also," Gohan smiled, leaning back on his hands as he lay beside Bulma gazing into the sky. "I miss sushi."

"I miss …" Bulma cocked her head to the side as she created a constellation in the distance, it looked a bit like Paur she noted. "My lab."

"Cotton candy."

She laughed. "Gohan, your last five things have been food. You sound like your dad."

He blushed as his stomach rumbled and Bulma continued to smile. "You know what I don't miss?"

"Hm?"

"Chores."

"Oh," Gohan nodded. "Me neither! Or homework."

"Kid," Bulma nudged him, her large blue eyes remaining fixated skyward. "You do more studying than anyone I've ever seen."

"Studying and homework are different."

"I guess… but you should relax. This may be one of the few vacations you'll get in your life. If I know your mom, she's going to be eager to make up for the loss of valuable time."

He scratched his head. "Some vacation."

"Tell me about it," Bulma shifted her jaw. "I'm far too pretty to be out fending for my life in the wilderness."

They grew silent, watching the stars in peace until Gohan spoke up.

"Thank you, Bulma, for coming with me. I'm sorry if you, uh, regret it."

She blinked, and turned her head to face him, her brows lifted. "Oh Gohan, I don't regret a thing. Besides, this is a once in a lifetime experience." Sharing a momentary joke with herself she chuckled. "Even if I have to be revived with the Dragon Balls and I end up getting two lifetimes."

"It was very brave of you. And I'm grateful for the company."

"Me too kid," she grinned. "I can't wait to tell your dad what a good job you've done."

"What do you think they told my mom?"

"Uh," Bulma shrugged. "Not too sure. If they put all their heads together I'm sure they came up with something good."

* * *

The hovercraft landed swiftly on the Lookout with a resounding _smack_ and Goku paused, in mid-attack, and blinked in Krillin's direction.

"Oh no…"

"What Goku?" Krillin froze, trying to seek out Gohan and Bulma's power level. It took a great deal of concentration, but he felt them both powered down and relaxed. What had Goku set on such edge then?

"She's, uh," Goku barely chocked out. Rubbing the back of his head, he frowned. "Chichi's going to _kill _me. Will you go out and-"

"No," Krillin interrupted, arms stretched for emphasis. "This is your battle Goku. Last time I agreed to do your dirty work, this time it's in your hands."

With a sigh, Goku turned from his spar with Krillin on the platform of the Lookout and watched as his wife leapt from the hatch of the plane and started in his direction. He could feel the fury in her eyes before she could see it.

"Where _is _he Goku?"

Her voice was demanding, and the warrior took a timid step backwards. "Look Chichi, he's fine – alright?"

"_No _Goku, it is **not **alright! _Where_ is my baby!"

"He's with Bulma."

"And," her eyes narrowed. "Where. Is. Bulma?" Each syllable was rewarded with a purposeful poke to his chest, which actually only served to hurt her fingers and leave the solid warrior staring at his uninjured chest.

"Uh," he swallowed. "I'm not sure. She said she'd be back soon though… Hey – I know! You can just hang out here until they get back!"

Crossing her arms and shooting him a glare, the proud woman exhaled heavily through her nose. "Why couldn't my little baby been more like me instead of his irresponsible, lunkhead of a father?"

Krillin cleared his throat and leaned towards Goku.

"You know, she's going to catch on as soon as we discuss their power levels."

"Yeah," Goku whispered back, staring at his wife. "But I'd rather her find out on her own than be the one who has to tell her where Gohan is."

Krillin shrugged as he stared at the woman from the corner of his eye. "Well, it's your funeral…."

* * *

The following day had gone by smoothly, and Bulma woke up to find that it was once again bright outside. In an unusually cheerful mood, she stretched out her arms as she sat up from her bed and hummed to herself as she changed and gathered her toothbrush and bating supplies.

Exiting her room, she walked passed Gohan's door. Peering inside she found the young boy sprawled out across his sheets, snoring, with one small arm hanging over the edge of the bed. With a smile, she continued to tiptoe out of their house and into the illuminated morning.

With the towel thrown over her shoulder she walked the well-known path to the spring and, when she made it to the edge of the clear water, just as she was about the strip down, she spotted a figure leaning against one of the rocks in the distance. Crouching down and cursing herself for not bringing the scouter, Bulma tried to make out the looming shape.

The first sign was the jutting shoulder pads, a telltale sign of the regulation battle armor. The one that Vegeta had said was stolen by Frieza from the, what was it?, vastly superior Saiyan model. She sighed, yes, that was it. So it was a soldier.

As the figure turned in her direction, Bulma let out an audible shriek as a purple alien bared it's ugly mug. She stared at its large, fleshy lips and catfish-like whiskers with disgust.

Hearing her surprised cry, the figure studied its lime green scouter with a smirk.

"Nameless idiot, power level five?" It chuckled.

Bulma crawled frantically backwards, wondering how she'd ever called herself a genius when she'd so stupidly forgotten to bring any sort of weapon with her. She continued to backpedal on her hands and feet until her back collided with something hard. Tilting her head back she found herself staring up at an all too familiar man with dark hair that swept into a flame and even darker eyes. Too frightened to move, Bulma remained seated where she was.

His eyes were narrowed and a sinister smirk donned his features. She swallowed, but he ignored her, not bothering to look down at her even though her back was flush against his shins. Instead he simply leered at the purple man before them.

"Cui, I was hoping I would run into you."

"Vegeta, the pleasure is all mine," he smiled menacingly. "But, please, I was just about to enjoy a little snack before you interrupted. We can continue our little squabble after I'm done with the delectable creature currently sitting on your boots."

Bulma felt her arse collide with the ground as Vegeta stepped back, removing her from his feet and glaring down at her as though she were scum. Never too in danger to protect her vanity, Bulma scowled up at him.

He, however, missed her headed glare, as all his attention seemed fixated on Cui.

"I will not be pushed aside for that foolish woman," Vegeta bellowed. "You can have your fun with her _if _you manage to survive me first."

A shiver raced down her spine as she watched the Saiyan warrior smirk haughtily at the purple soldier. Though she couldn't sense power levels the way her friends could and she'd so stupidly left her scouter back at the house, she could still feel the crackle Vegeta's energy, his dark presence seeping into ever fiber of her being and she was unable to do anything but stare at him in awe.

Fierce dedication shook his core as he plunged towards the surprised alien. Cui sidestepped his original attack, but the prince was quick to recover.

A blur of black and purple, Bulma watched, silently cheering the Saiyan on as the warriors took into the air until they were too high for to make out anything.

Seeing this as her chance to escape, she began to make a run for it. However, a blast landed a few yards ahead of her and the run she'd began slowed to a sudden stop, her shoes sinking into the dirt with the force of her momentum. Cursing, she turned to see the purple alien Vegeta had called 'Cui' glaring down at her.

"Not so fast little one, I haven't had my fun with you yet."

Taking advantage of Cui's momentary detour from battle, Vegeta was quickly behind him, pinning him in a headlock.

"You stupid bastard," Vegeta chuckled as he tightened his grip. Bulma watched, eyes wide, as the vibrant purple of the man's face faded to a soft lavender and his lips grew eerily white. "You will pay for turning your back on me."

With a sudden snap, Bulma watched as Vegeta twisted Cui's head and dropped the limp body to the ground. At least he'd snapped his neck and not suffocated him to death.

Her eyes jumped from the lifeless body laying crumpled five or so yards before her to the smirking alien hovering above her.

"You… killed him."

He grunted and landed, watching cautiously as she made her way over to Cui's motionless form. With a wrinkled nose, Bulma nudged the body with her toe and, after deciding that he wasn't going to suddenly rejuvenate and attempt to kill her, smiled at the Saiyan.

"Thanks Vegeta, you saved me again."

His chest constricted at the disgustingly familiar manner that she'd addressed him, but there was no denying the surprise of her reaction from the gruesome sight she'd just observed.

"Once again woman, it was not for your benefit." He landed on the solid ground and powered down, the absence of his crackling energy significantly lowering the temperate around them. Though Bulma wasn't sure why it caused her face to flush.

"Besides," he continued. "I was worried you were going to rob me of my victory. I've been waiting for quite sometime to kill Cui and I was afraid you were going to blast him with one of your little toys."

"Oh." Bulma shrugged. "I forgot my gun back at the house."

Frowning, she regretted her words. Stupid thing to say Bulma…, she cursed herself.

Vegeta, however, simply chuckled. "So you were just out for a stroll, unprotected?"

"Er," she glanced at the forgotten soap and towel waiting beside the stream. "I was going to take a bath. Now," she glared, "if you'll excuse me…."

"No. You will prepare me another meal for saving your life."

She blinked but, wordlessly, turned and led the way back to her and Gohan's shelter. He was right, she did owe him some thanks. And it appeared that he had no interest in killing her. He was an enigma, that was fore sure.

With a sideways glance at the arrogant Saiyan, Bulma frowned. Gohan was going to kill her…

* * *

Happy Columbus Day! As I have the day off and a million things to do, naturally, I ignored all of them and decided to work on this story. Update in 5 days?

Ta-da!

Once again, thank you for all of the lovely people who took the time to review. All three of you. It does wonders for my vanity.

-LL


	6. Chapter 6

She was once again mesmerized by the refined manner which he stuffed his face. It was almost as though he hadn't eaten since they'd last seen each other, but she knew Vegeta was more than capable of feeding himself and it probably had more to do with the infamous Saiyan appetite. She was used to seeing Goku and, even more so, young Gohan eat, so she wasn't sure why watching Vegeta surprised her.

It was probably because he had agreed to, or, rather, forced the meal on her. She smiled as she took a mouthful of rice. He must be fond of her cooking.

Her mother had always told her that the way to a man's heart was food. Studying him through her lashes, Bulma decided perhaps her mother wasn't as dense as she'd always assumed. Not that Bulma planned on worming her way into Vegeta's heart. She nearly scuffed, but as he leaned back and frowned at her, she noted the way his broad shoulders bunched with tension. No, not his heart, but perhaps she wouldn't mind getting into his pants…

One of Vegeta's dark brows lifted as an uncharacteristic crimson stained the odd woman's cheeks. What in the world was she thinking? She was the strangest woman he'd yet to encounter, but she cooked him dinner and let him be while he ate, so he'd allow her to live to see another day.

The door was thrust open; Bulma stopped blushing at Vegeta and he stopped staring at her like she had two heads, as Gohan entered the living room with a pant.

"Bulma I-" He froze, arms extended, a bolt of energy dying from his outstretched palms. Confusion evident on his features, he let his arms drop to his side. "I sensed someone and I though you were in trouble."

"Nope," Bulma grinned, biting into another morsel of flavorful meat. "Vegeta saved me from this disgusting purple guy and now he's joining us for lunch."

"Oh," Gohan nodded, making his way over to the table. "Okay."

Bulma filled his bowl with rice and vegetables and topped it off with a generous serving of meat. Gohan's eyes remained on Vegeta as Bulma cheerily explained to him how another leg of competition was eliminated.

"Your father," Vegeta interrupted, glaring at the boy. "He was abnormally weak as an infant. He was sent to Chikyuu to destroy its inhabitants." His eyes shifted to Bulma who paused refilling his own plate and was staring at him with an astounded look. "He failed, no?"

Gohan stuttered, and, sensing his shock, Bulma shrugged.

"I met Son-Kun when he was a small boy," she replied conversationally, continuing to top off Vegeta's lunch. "He was a strange kid, definitely not weak. He was always sweet and innocent, and he never tried to kill me. Apart from that one time when he turned into a giant ape, that is." She tapped thoughtfully on her chin before sliding into her own seat across the table. "But after we removed his tail he was good as new."

Vegeta choked on his food. "You fool! But … Kakarott"

Bulma shrugged. "Good thing there're no moons on this planet. When I first met Gohan I was terrified, but his dad assured me he's never transformed."

Gohan swallowed a mouthful of food. "Transformed into what?"

"Don't worry about it kid," she waved. "It's no biggie."

"No… biggie? The Oozaru is the key to unlocking a Saiyans full potential. It is only second the legendary Super Saiyan. The key to-"

"Well, I'd say Goku is a super Saiyan," she interrupted. Winking at Gohan, she grinned. "You too kid!"

"Idiots." Vegeta growled, and, ignoring them, shoved another forkful of food into his mouth. How could he expect these peasants to know anything about Saiyan culture, about the…

Once again, he was interrupted by the woman's inane pestering.

"So will you be staying the night?" Bulma asked, large blue eyes studying him as he shot her a heated glare.

"I guess _one_ of us" she continued, casting a slated guess at Gohan, "could give up our bed if you wanted to stay."

"Nonsense," he grumbled, standing up from the table. "I will sleep there once again, but for now I am going to find some of Frieza's soldiers and mop the floor of this planet with their worthless corpses."

"Oh," Bulma blinked, watching him depart. "Should I make an extra helping of dinner?"

He glared at her before bursting through the door, but, even with all the hate that was blatantly in his eyes, Bulma heard his mumbled 'yes' before slamming the door into its frame.

She ignored Gohan's look as she finished her human-size helping and thought of ways to make the Saiyan's stay more comfortable.

* * *

Vegeta had remained silent during dinner, as well as after it as well, only to scuff at Bulma's insistence upon him using sheet for his slumber on the couch. When she returned from her bath in the spring, she had blushed to find him already sleeping on the couch in his spandex training suit, chest plate resting of the coffee table beside the neatly folded sheets he refused to touch.

She carefully shut the front door and, though it wasn't necessary but did wonders for her sanity, locked it and turned back towards the sleeping Saiyan. He was hardly restful, she noted, as his brows furrowed and the corner of his lip twitched. She could hear him mumbling to himself and she wondered what terrors could haunt such a frightening man. She stared at him for longer than was polite, and, shaking her head, she turned her back to him.

When she was back in the safety of her room, she decided she'd need to find him some proper sleeping clothes. It was the last thought she had before drifting off to sleep.

When she awoke in the morning, Vegeta was gone.

* * *

Another uneventful day for Bulma, with nothing to do but tamper with Raditz's scouter and blasting boulders away with her gun outside their shelter, had gone by and she found herself once again in the kitchen studying recipes, wishing she possessed some of Chichi's natural talent for cooking. Things would be a lot less stressful if she could just whip something up rather than hunch over a cookbook as though it were a chemistry experiment.

Earlier that day she'd gone through their rations, being careful to take into account she was now feeding two Saiyans, but it seemed as though they had enough to last another three or four months. She glanced outside, though bright it was now evening 'her time', and because neither Gohan nor Vegeta had joined her for lunch, she had a feeling they would both be showing up famished for dinner.

When she was removing the last pot from the oven, the door burst open and Bulma screamed. Turning her narrowed, blue eyes towards the intruder, she found a slightly beaten Vegeta standing proudly in the living room. If they'd had running water, she'd demand he clean up, but instead she cursed him for frightening her and demanded he take a seat.

He did so, removing his gloves and scouter and ignoring the blue haired woman as best he could.

"You know," Bulma said, placing the pot on the table as the Saiyan took his 'usual' seat. "You could at least knock so you don't send me into cardiac arrest."

Vegeta, as per usual, ignored her and began filling his plate. With a defeated shrug, Bulma wiped her hands on a cloth and joined him at the table.

After a few minutes of silence, Vegeta looked around as though he'd just noticed something.

"Where's the brat?"

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged. "Swimming, most likely. That boy spends hours at the stream." Her eyes drifted to the window. "At least it's light out."

She half expected him to reassure her that Gohan was more than capable of taking care of himself, light or otherwise, but he was back to ignoring her. Her brow furrowed.

"So, Vegeta," she smiled. "How was your day?"

He paused, and lifted his eyes to meet her. With a quirked brow as his only response, Bulma sighed.

"Uh, kill anyone today?"

"Four."

"Oh," she nodded. "That's …. nice."

The door opened and the pair turned to find a slightly damp Gohan standing in door. He blinked, but shut the door and timidly joined the strange duo for what he could only call another 'family dinner'. He chuckled, but controlled himself as soon as Vegeta shot him a pointed glare.

The trio continued to eat in silence, the occasional compliment from Gohan on Bulma's meal, and she asking the pair who wanted dessert.

Just as she was coming back from the kitchen with an armful of chocolate cake, she noted Gohan's serious expression.

"What is it? Do you sense someone?"

"Yes." He nodded, removing himself from the table. "Stay inside, Bulma."

Setting the cake on the kitchen table she sighed. "I thought we went over this Gohan. I came along to keep you safe, you can't order me around every time there's a threat."

Vegeta studied the exchange with a calculating gaze, a smirk donning his lips. Following the boy outside, he decided he'd rather like making today's total five.

The seconds that ticked by grated Bulma's nerves. She felt like she was waiting for death, but with two Saiyans by her side, she figured the odds were most likely in her favor. Eventually, they watched as a man flew overhead, a mere streak in the distance, and Gohan sighed with relief.

"He isn't coming for us," he clarified to no one in particular. "He'd just passing by."

Bulma smiled. "Good, now let's finish dinner."

"Hn." Vegeta grunted before taking off into the air.

"Hey!" Bulma shouted in protest. Gohan, however, turned to shoot her an apologetic frown.

"Sorry Bulma…"

She glared as he followed Vegeta into the direction of the passerby and cursed into the bright evening.

"Fine! See if I feed you again! Ungrateful jerks."

Gohan stopped midflight as he caught Vegeta glaring at a dark-haired humanoid in regulation battle armor.

"Prince Vegeta," the man chuckled. "I was unaware that you'd teamed up with a child." His eyes shifted between the pair, a glimmer in his eyes. "I can't wait to tell the others."

The proud warrior simply smirked. "Sorry Vittore, you won't be telling them much of anything."

In awe, Gohan watched as Vegeta rammed the soldier and the pair began exchanging blows. He winced as Vegeta took a swift kick to the gut, but followed it up with a punch to the jaw that had Vittore flying ten feet backwards, seeing stars.

Without a second's pause, the pair was once again dodging one another's attacks, spiraling upwards. Gohan followed them, flying higher so that he was once again eye level with the battle. He could sense Vittore's energy depleting, but one look at the already battered form of Vegeta and he knew they were still evenly matched.

With a pant, Vegeta backed off and wiped his bloodied lip. Vittoire took advantage of the momentary blip to study Gohan. It was then that he noted the brown tail wrapped snuggly around the boy's waist. The soldier tossed back his head and laughed.

"Vegeta I hadn't realized you were man enough to reproduce." Vittoire chuckled, and, quickly shot an energy blast in the child's direction.

Vegeta whipped his head around to watch the child deflect the attack with crossed arms and charge towards the warrior. In response, Vegeta punched the child, sending him flying a few yards back.

"This is my battle, brat. Stay out of it."

Gohan panted as he watched as the pair was once again back to exchanging blows until a knee to the stomach caused Vittoire to plummet into the ground. The boy blinked as he watched the dust settle, revealing a human-sized crater in the ground. Vegeta's laughter brought him out of the daze and he watched as the flame haired male extended his arm and opened his hand flat, wrist slated in a 90-degree angle, creating a ball of energy so golden it looked almost white to Gohan. The sphere hurtled from his palm and into the crater on the ground.

"Vegeta!" Gohan screamed. "You didn't have to kill him! You'd already won."

"Brat, do you not understand a battle to the death?"

The young boy simply glared in response.

"And stay out of my way in the future. I need you alive so you can teach me how to sense energy."

"Oh," Gohan nodded before Vegeta glared in his direction and shot off back in the direction of their house.

He sighed and followed him, thinking Bulma had terrible taste in allies. Though if the Big Bang Attack he'd just witnessed was anything to go by, he knew she'd at least chosen a strong one.

"Well," Bulma glared, arms crossed, from her position on the couch as the two males entered the house. She paused over Vegeta's new injuries and Gohan's swollen cheek and her angry expression faltered.

"What happened?"

"Vegeta punched me."

"Boys," Bulma mumbled.

"Bu-" Gohan sputtered. "I didn't _do_ anything."

"I don't want to hear it," she said, sending him a look then shooting it in Vegeta's direction. She wasn't their mother, she thought, and so she certainly wasn't going to treat them like her children… "Now sit down and finish eating. I didn't slave away in the kitchen for nothing."

And so Gohan took his seat and finishing his chocolate cake in silence. Bulma eating her own slice, angry with everyone, and Vegeta trying it, only to remember why he tolerated these idiots. Their food was unlike anything he'd tasted before.

"Brat," he said when they were done with dinner and Gohan was helping Bulma load the dishwasher. "You will teach me how to sense energy this evening before going to bed."

"Uh," Gohan looked to Bulma for support but she only shrugged. "Yes sir."

She tried to hide her grin behind a plate, but after Vegeta retreated outside she broke into a fit of giggles. "Sir? Man, you really are too polite. You're Chichi's kid, that's for sure."

* * *

The recoil was something she'd never get used to, and she cursed her sore arms after the blast had hurled into the distant bolder leaving a mushroom cloud of dust blocking the rubble of the remains of a once solid rock. With a smirk of satisfaction, Bulma praised her newly tweaked Ki rifle.

She had a total of three in her possession, but the others had been tucked safely into a capsule back at the house. Gohan was off training or swimming or whatever the young boy did during the long days on this planet, leaving Bulma bored once again.

Glaring up at the suns, she pulled her long hair back and rubbed her sweaty forehead on her forearm. When she looked up she shrieked. Vegeta was standing before her, arms crossed.

"Dammit Vegeta, don't _do _that."

His expression remained ever stoic until he spotted the rubble in the distance.

"Testing out your weaponry?"

She glanced down at her gun and then back at the Saiyan, a smile gracing her features. Was Vegeta _bored_?

"Lovely day, hm?" She said, moving towards the shade and sitting on a large rock.

Vegeta, however, just glared at her.

She was becoming very accustomed to his glare. His intimidating gaze was actually such a commonplace that it no longer frightened her. They were growing comfortable with their arrangement and Bulma was eighty-six percent sure that Vegeta wasn't going to kill her any time soon.

Opening her satchel, Bulma retrieved a capsule and tossed it to the ground. Vegeta's eyes bulged, but he quickly regained control of his surprise, his initial surprise not escaping Bulma's watchful gaze. The technology in this woman's possession was most interesting. He watched as she opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a canned drink. How the natives of Chikyuu could manage to fit items in small encasements and create guns that could wound Saiyan princes but not have the remedial space technology to even be on the radar of the remainder of the universe was beyond him.

Bulma watched him from the rim of her drink. "Uh, Vegeta, you want a soda?"

He remained rooted on the ground and she rolled her eyes.

"I have beer, too." She grinned. "I bet you'd like beer. It might even help you relax."

Stepping forward he glanced down at the mini-fridge with a curious frown. "Is that how you managed to transport the house to Cerius?"

"Oh," she opened her bag and revealed a pack of capsules. "Capsule technology? Sure is. It's also how we have so much food and clothing. My father designed them, but I helped perfect the prototype. Back on Chikyuu I'm considered a genius."

He watched her bat her eyes and smile at him; his nostrils flared.

"So, what do you say?" She asked, handing him a container labeled 'BEER'.

He took the drink and joined her on a nearby rock in the shade. Bulma leaned back and let out a sigh, her own refreshment resting in her hands.

"Now that I've told you a bit about myself and Chikyuu, it's your turn to share something with me, Vegeta." Bulma prodded, only because she knew trying to make small talk would drive him crazy. "What's planet Saiyan like?"

"There is no such thing as 'planet Saiayn', you idiot."

"Oh," she sat up, craning her neck to look over at him and noting the tense way he sat, shoulders rigid, arms resting on one of his bent knees, eyebrows narrowed over closed eyes. She frowned; he was more pissed than usual, which was saying something. His gloves were slightly off-white and there was a hole near his elbow of his dark blue training suit. She noted his lips were drawn together, his hair swept back in an impossibly dramatic flame – she could see the cord of muscles beneath the olive skin of his thick neck, and the tops of his well-defined pictorials peeking above the armor of his chest plate. Despite his weathered appearance, he appeared strong. She blushed, almost regal.

"Then what's your home world called? I bet Gohan would like to hear about it."

He opened his eyes and studied the horizon. The brat had taught him to sense power levels the day before and though he hadn't yet mastered it, he had felt the familiar surge of her tiny energy from miles away. He wished he'd ignored his instincts and left her alone. "It was called Vegetasei."

Her laughter caused him to turn from the horizon to blink at her. She continued to laugh, tossing her head back.

One brow cocked in his direction, her blue eyes danced with amusement. "Vegetasei?"

When he only growled in response Bulma's smile faltered.

"What do you mean _was_?"

"Will you shut up?"

She blinked, and averted her eyes resolutely forward as she nodded, her gaze focused on absolutely anything except him. He was killer, she knew that, heck, she'd seen it first hand. However, his furious snap still surprised her.

A foreign emotion bubbled somewhere deep in Vegeta's gut. He wasn't sure why, but having the foolish woman scared of him bothered him. He was used to people cowering from him, he relished in it. But he was growing steadily amused by the woman's irrational temper and sharp tongue. She was idiotic more often than not, but he had grown to … respect her intellect, perhaps even her bravery. Not like her, no; he could hardly stand her.

"Vegetasei was destroyed by Frieza. It no longer exists and I don't feel like telling the brat about it."

"Oh." Bulma found herself blinking once again, turning to watch the always-stern expression on the Saiyan's face harden with emotion. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't ask for you pity."

"Yeah, well, I don't care. I'm still sorry." Another careful glance and Bulma brought her knees to her chest. "I still think it's funny that the Saiyan home world was called Vegetasei."

One of his brows twitched in annoyance. He was beginning to regret not killing her on the spot.

"So, were you named after someone famous or something?"

"I was named after my father, King Vegeta, and I am the Prince of all Saiyans. You do no have the right to call yourself a genius if you are too dense to figure something as simple as that out."

Bulma feigned a thoughtful expression, tapping her chin with her finger. "Well, it certainly explains the high-and-mighty attitude."

"Insolent woman."

She smiled as she studied him from her place on the rock and he glared back. Rolling her eyes she offered him another beer, which he accepted. For the remainder of the afternoon the pair sat in a comfortable silence, Bulma not feeling the need to force Vegeta to open up any further that day. She'd learned more about him than she'd ever expected and, with time, she was determined to know more. Vegeta was a mystery, and Bulma Briefs loved a good mystery.

* * *

I had no idea guilt tripping so many of you into reviewing would work so well! I almost feel bad but, no, it worked – so there! Really though, a big thanks and bigger hug to everyone who took the time to review. It was awesome seeing all the responses to the previous chapter and I promise to be grateful from now on.

I also noticed that several of my reviewers and people who added me in one way or another resulting in my getting an email about it don't have many other BV stories on their favorites list. (That's right, I stalked all of you.) So, if anyone is interested in an exceptional BV fic, please check out my favorites. Really, it's all quality stuff. Way better than this story. Not that this is bad, but that stuff is REALLY REALLY good. And remember – be polite and always review. Also, share the love; I'm always looking for a good fic, so send any of your stories or your recommendations my way!

Thanks! Your dutiful writer who promises another chapter shortly,

Lady Lan


	7. Chapter 7

There was nothing of much interest on the ceiling above her bed, but her eyes nevertheless remained fixated on the plain white spread of nothingness. Her lids were forced apart, vibrant blue shone with a deep swell of emotion and her pink lips pinned themselves forcefully together.

She refused to fall back asleep; her dreams were filled dark eyes and cinnamon skin, of hard-earned muscles and deep, throaty chuckles. Bulma slanted her eyes, trying hard not to blink until tears welled in the creases of her large orbs. She held her ground and refrained from breaking her gaze with the ceiling.

It was odd. She hadn't swooned when she'd first seen him upon her landing on Cerius. No, she hadn't melted into a pile of useless limbs or reduced herself to a drooling schoolgirl the way she had a habit of doing upon seeing other equally delectable males. Vegeta had terrified her the first time she'd seen him. Now that they were, acquaintances, of sort, and she was beginning to look past his frightening nature, she was finding it increasingly difficult to not fantasize about him. Which was probably inappropriate since he was currently sleeping on the couch in her living room and she was trying to convince him to be her ally. Not to mention that a young boy was snoring in the adjacent room and it wouldn't do to go throwing herself at devilishly handsome, scary alien men while she was trying so hard to be a good role model.

With a sigh, Bulma clinched her eyes shut and rubbed her hands against her face. She was going crazy on this planet. That had to be it. Throwing her legs over the side of her bed, she planted her shaky limbs, ignoring the moisture between her thighs. Naughty dreams were nothing new to Bulma Briefs. Actually, naughty dreams with guys who were strictly off limits were also nothing shocking to the blue haired woman. She ran her shaky fingers through her hair, temporarily taming the unruly tresses and stepped into the living room.

His shallow, even breaths clued her in that he was sleeping, but she refused to look at him as she padded around the couch and into the kitchenette. With her back to the sleeping Saiyan, Bulma poured a cup of water from the fridge and warmed it. Adding a pack of the not-quite-coffee powder to the steaming mug, she slowly turned to peek at the prince lying on her couch.

The mug rose to her mouth, and she rested her lips on the rim of the cup. She stayed liked that, staring at him from across the room, for longer than was polite until she was interrupted by a creak.

Turning her head in the direction of Gohan's room, she watched as the small boy peered from behind his cracked door.

Rubbing an eye, the boy yawned. "What time is it?"

"I'm not sure," Bulma shrugged. "I stopped keeping track a long time ago. Late though, for us. What's up?"

Gohan shut his door and entered the kitchenette in his footed pajamas. Bulma smiled.

"I was thirsty," he said, grabbing the water from the refrigerator and pouring himself a glass. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

He shot her cup of coffee an incredulous glance, but voiced no opinions on the matter.

Bulma went back to staring at Vegeta with a distant smile that Gohan did not miss. He thought maybe, just maybe, Bulma might be foolish enough to harbor a crush on him. He shook off the thought. There was no way she would be that silly. His father spoke of Bulma as though she were the most intelligent, levelheaded woman he'd met. There was no way the celebrated genius could be so irrational, so impractical, so…

"He's a prince, you know."

Gohan blinked at her words.

"He's also a murderer. I watched him kill someone with my own eyes. He's heartless."

"He's lonely," she interjected, a distant look in her eyes.

"He's also a light sleeper," a voice from the couch shot, Vegeta's eyes opening, brows narrowed dangerously.

Bulma swallowed audibly, wondering how long he'd been awake. Not that she was surprised; she'd yet to see him relax. He was always on guard, always waiting for someone to strike. It had to be all the time he'd spent as a fighter living under Frieza. She wondered how old he was when his planet and title were stripped from him. Was he young and naïve, and he'd never really had the chance to claim them? Or was he older, mature; used to being treated as royalty before being reduced to being nothing more than a combatant for another monarch? She wasn't sure which was worse. Either way, she imagined the transition was difficult, especially for someone as proud as Vegeta.

"Sorry," she finally spoke. With a smile, she poured the remnants of her instant coffee into the sink and placed the mug atop the dishes piling up. She and Gohan had filled the dishwasher to the brink, and, without running water, it was functioning as nothing more than a storage unit. Her next project was to install a water system, she just didn't think they'd be alive long enough to enjoy it. "For keeping you up. We're going to bed now."

Met with a grunt as her only response, Bulma smiled as she ruffled Gohan's hair as she told him goodnight.

When Bulma awoke she was unaware of how long she'd slept. She was also unaware of when she'd finally fallen asleep, but, as far as she could tell, her dreams were Vegeta-free.

There was a slight bounce to her step, which was immediately halted as she entered the living room to find Vegeta seated at the table. There was a Saiyan-sized helping of leftovers before him and he refrained from engorging himself long enough to glare at her before retuning to his food.

"Did you even heat that up?" Bulma asked, cocking her head to the side as she watched him eat.

He figured if he didn't answer she'd leave him be. He figured incorrectly.

"You know, if you'd waited I would have fixed you something."

"I skipped breakfast and I was not going to miss my midday meal because you decided to sleep all day."

Bulma blinked. "It's lunch time?"

"Foolish wench. You're the laziest woman I've ever met," he set down his eating utensil and fixed his eyes on her. "And this place is a mess. Clean it up. That is another one of your functions, no?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. Vegeta smirked as the irritable woman had the gall to tap her toe. She really was amusing.

"First of all, your _highness_," she snapped. "I may cook for you, and I may give you a place to stay, but I am not your servant, so don't expect me to clean after you!"

He motioned to the pair of diet root beer cans on the table. "Woman, I am simply asking that you clean up after yourself."

"Arg!" Her arms dropped to her sides, fists balled and face fuming. He resisted the urge to chuckle. "You arrogant bastard! You have _no _right to order me around. I don't know what I was thinking inviting you here in the first place."

Vegeta stood from the table and moved towards her. Bulma took a subconscious step back, wondering how he could look so imposing at his short stature.

"For a woman who runs around professing herself to be a genius, you are quite idiotic. You wish to kick me out? Fine." His smirk sent a chill down her spine. He leaned forward, and Bulma felt her back press against the wall. "We are no longer allies then. It is unfortunate that we find ourselves in such close proximity."

Bulma swallowed as she felt his warm breath on her cheek. He pressed one hand beside her head, devilish smirk adoring his lips. When she spoke, her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.

"We're not enemies, Vegeta," her eyes met his and she tried her best to look brave. "I'll make you a warm lunch and afterwards wash your armor." She turned her attention to the dirt-clad breastplate he donned. It was in need of a serious scrubbing.

He chuckled as he stroked her cheek with a gloved forefinger. "You shouldn't let your temper get the best of you woman. I much prefer you compliant to dead."

She blinked at his words, dangerously close to a compliment though nothing of the sort. "I'm still not going to be tidy."

He chuckled and she wondered why he hadn't pulled away. His proximity was making her uncomfortable, stirring up memories from the previous night's sleep.

When he pulled away his eyes didn't leave her, and Bulma wiped her palms on her sleep shorts, unsure of what else do with her shaking hands.

"Oh," she nodded. "Right, lunch."

As Bulma heated the leftovers, she felt Vegeta's eyes on her every move. Turning to him, she spoke, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"So you've said."

"No," she grinned. "I mean I know you're tolerating Gohan and I, that you don't need us, I mean. Sure the food and shelter is nice, but its not like it's something you're exactly used to, right?"

He glanced up at her as she set his lunch on the table.

Bulma nodded. "Thank you."

His brow raised in the adorable fashion she was beginning to recognize as his way of expressing confusion.

"You don't have to, is all I mean. You could kill us, but you haven't. We're not the best allies in this game, but it's comforting having you on our side."

He wanted to tell her that if she weren't so sickeningly nice, she could have very well killed him that day in the woods when she'd brought him to his knees. Instead she'd turned and fled in the other direction. He thought she was insane then, running around in the woods with no energy to speak of in an indecently short skirt. His opinion of her hadn't much changed.

They ate lunch in silence, a silence they were becoming accustomed to. Every now and then Bulma would try to think of something funny or witty to say, but she knew Vegeta would not appreciate the sentiment, so she kept all commentary to herself. For the time being, she wanted to stay on the prince's good side. That is, if he had one.

* * *

It was dark in the room, the stark white ceiling was shadowed and he glared at it, trying to suppress his anger. He had done nothing of interest that day, he flew around, testing his new trick of sensing energy but the area surrounding them was a barren wasteland. He hadn't run into a single being, which left his kill total for the day at nil. It was frustrating. He was sure there others were left. Freiza said when he felt enough time had passed he would come to the planet and all the miserable souls left would gather in a makeshift arena, much like they had done on the first day upon landing on planet Cerius. He shifted his head, cracking his neck at the thought of the final battle. The only ally worth fighting with was the kid with stupid hair, and he decided he'd need to begin training him the following day if the boy was to stay alive. The woman, however, would be nothing short of useless. He growled.

A part of him wondered if Frieza would come for them. Perhaps he'd just let them die off. Vegeta was certain most of his other spies had been killed; there really was no reason for him to come back. No reason other than the fact of Frieza's lust for battle. Vegeta smirked. This alone would ensure that the bastard would return, hungry for a fight. Being on top meant he hardly fought anymore, and Frieza was not keen on sitting idly on his throne, letting the others do his dirty work.

Once again his mind drifted back to the woman. He couldn't help it. In the last week he'd been in the sole company of the annoying brat and she, and they were the only kis he was familiar with. The Halfling was in his room, awake, and the woman was down by the river.

Bathing.

He closed his eyes, washing away the images that flooded his mind. It wasn't his fault, this gift was new to him and he hadn't the mastery yet to turn his focus away from the only two energies he could recognize. He frowned, the only two energies within his vicinity.

She'd skipped away from the table after dinner, telling the two Saiyans not to wait up on her. When she was leaving, he'd noted that she had one of her weapons with her. He shouldn't care, he cursed himself. Her safety was of no importance to him. If she were dead he could remain in her shelter and eat her food; the only difference would be he would be safe from her screeching.

But, no. He'd already decided earlier that day, when he had her pressed against the wall that he would keep alive so long as she continued to provide him with warm food and a place to stay. She would be one of the last to go, he'd decided. If she were killed before, however, it would be of no consequence to him.

Though he'd convinced himself of the latter, he was still unable to turn his attention away from miniscule energy at the stream. He was aware when she began walking back towards their home, and though he faked slumber, he peered out of one eye as she entered the dwelling.

He had to suppress a groan as she toweled off her dripping hair and he spotted her hardened nipples beneath her thin shirt. He closed his eyes.

"Hey Vegeta," she spoke, glancing at him as she continued to dry herself off. "Are you awake?"

His breathing was steady and he offered her no response so Bulma, with a shrug, entered her room.

Vegeta's mind was just about to succumb to the rest his body begged for until he felt her moving about in her room. After another long moment, Bulma reentered the living quarters, lingered, and exited through the front door. Vegeta betrayed his better judgment and opened his eyes. Had she gone outside? He frowned.

Time passed, but he was unable to fall asleep. He convinced himself it was because he couldn't stop following the restless woman's ki. Yes, it was all her damn fault. He growled and opened the front door to find her seated outside, a drink in her hand. When she heard the door open, she turned to him, a surprised expression encompassing her features.

"Oh," she blinked. "Vegeta. I thought you were asleep."

"I could not sleep with all that noise you were making."

She nodded. He was wearing his spandex suit, his freshly scrubbed armor resting on the coffee table inside the house. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was making any noise."

Sitting down beside her, Vegeta stared off into the distance. He realized she was watching the stars and drinking an alcoholic beverage.

"I slept in this morning," she explained, turning her eyes slightly to study his stoic profile. "Couldn't get a wink of sleep."

He nodded, not bothering to turn away from the impressive expanse of the sky. She also turned her attention back to the vastness of space, the large span of twinkling stars. They looked terrifyingly close compared to Chikyuu. She wondered what space looked like from Vegeta's planet, wondered if he'd ever had the chance to stargaze being the busy royal that he was.

She wisely voiced none of her thoughts. Instead, she asked about their competition.

"I cannot sense any other power levels nearby," he answered. He was a man of few words, and Bulma felt herself privileged whenever he decided to actually take the time to answer her questions. It was a dysfunctional relationship at best.

"I think it's best to stay put then," she noted. "Lay low and all that, but I'm guessing you want to move on, seek out the action that's no doubt moved to the other side of the planet?"

He smirked. He had in fact been itching to pack up and move, not that he had any inclination of bringing the woman along with him.

"Tomorrow I'll go, see what's on the other side."

"Oh."

"I'm taking the brat with me."

"Gohan?" Her eyes shot open. "Wait…" They narrowed. "You're planning on abandoning me?"

"Relax woman, it's just for the day. The boy needs some hardening if he's to be a proper ally."

She couldn't help the smile that tugged on the corners of her mouth. Had Vegeta just admitted to being their ally?

"I came along to help protect Gohan, you know. Raditz didn't inform us that the other contestant had to be female. I was the only one around, but I'm more than capable of handling myself. That's the only reason those idiots agreed to let me come along."

"I do not doubt that you can protect yourself while we are away." As an after thought, he added, "but if you are dead when we return it will be of no consequence to me."

She rolled her eyes at his words, but there was no malice in his tone. No, Vegeta spoke only with frankness, and possibly a bit of dry humor. He didn't seem like the type of man who would waste his breath cracking jokes, but Bulma was beginning to discover there was a lot to Vegeta she didn't expect. For istance, she hadn't imagined he would make a good stargazing partner.

"Take care tomorrow," she smiled. "It would be a shame for all that food I've given you to go to waste."

"Never concern yourself with my safety woman."

His brow creased and she fought the urge to smooth it down with her fingertips. She could feel the suppressed frustration radiating from him and she thought it might help if he opened up, talked to her about it.

Since hell had yet to freeze over and probably wouldn't any time soon, Bulma figured their relationship would never be extended as such. Still, she leaned back against the cool grass, a beam of light crescenting the sky so vividly that she thought it must be a ship and not a star, she wondered what it would take to break open Vegeta's shell just a hair.

He'd already openly admitted to being her ally, and so, her body shifting slightly towards him, being careful not to invade his personal space, she decided that, at least, was a start.

* * *

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of the wonderful people who're nice enough to let me know they are reading by leaving a review. Happy (late) birthday IfLooksCouldKill and a special thanks to Obsidian Blade for inspiring me to get another chapter out. And to everyone else – you are the latest and greatest! Thank you once again.

I apologize for the delay! I went on vacation last week and I returned with a souvenir cold. And not a lay-in-bed-watching-TV-and-writing-fanfiction cold, and snotty, miserable, miss-work-to-sleep-the-week-away cold.

I'm looking forward to the next chapter. It should be a fun one to write.

Also – any DBZ Abridged fans … Chapter 19 is out! Go.

-L


	8. Chapter 8

She was furious. No - she frowned, kicking a stone and crossing her arms - furious was an under-statement. A bloody-fucking understatement for the surge of emotions that coursed her veins as she was once again reminded that the only two allies she had on this entirely world had abandoned her this morning. As though she weren't already bored enough! At least Gohan had the curtsey to wave and mumble an apology; Vegeta had ignored her as he took into the air. Not a nod, not a word – nothing. Not that she really expected anything from him, but it would be nice if, every once in a while, he'd return the sentiment. Well, beyond just not killing her.

After all she'd done for those numskulls they'd just up and left. "Boys," she grumbled, kicking another rock and watching as it rolled, springing into the air as it caught the jutting clumps of dirt that littered the planet's surface. It skipped a few times before laying dormant by the stream.

Yes, they had gone off, looking for fun and adventure and here she was at the edge of the water about to spend her day working diligently for those idiots. She wouldn't admit through her haze of anger and self-centeredness that her efforts were mostly selfish, not when she was busy loathing the only two friends she had on this hellhole.

Opening a capsule, she set to work on her newest design: a pump, made entirely out of parts from an emptied mini-refrigerator and an unused generator, and, with another pop, revealed a tank which she used the pump to fill with water from the stream.

She monitored the pressure and filled the tank, blue eyes darting between the two contraptions, her face sober, the way she often looked when dealing with serious things like science. Bulma Briefs could be called a silly woman, but, at the end of the day, she was still a genius.

The boys would appreciate her efforts when they returned.

After the tank had been filled, she capsulated the container, then the pump, and trekked back to the capsule house in the solitude of her irritated, conceited thoughts.

* * *

Gohan had not been flying for a very long time, considering his young age and upbringing, and so he applauded his ability to keep up with Vegeta. However, he was convinced that as he began to grow weary, Vegeta sensed his weakness and purposefully sped up.

"If you cannot keep up," Vegeta growled from a few yards before him, "I will not hesitate to leave you behind."

Yes, Gohan frowned, quickening his pace, having the squint against the wind, Vegeta would not tolerate anyone slowing him down. He hadn't expected Vegeta to stand for any weakness on his part, but it would be nice for him to acknowledge that he was just a kid from Chikyuu whose mother didn't even want him to train in the first place.

Bulma was here, he reminded himself, being brave and strong despite her fear and weakness, and he vowed to do the same.

That morning when he'd left, hesitating by the doorway as he waved at Bulma, it wasn't for her that he'd wanted to stay. He was afraid. Gohan could admit that to himself, but not aloud. The other day he'd watched Vegeta violently end someone's life. There was no sugarcoating it. Vegeta terrified him. So why, he wondered, was he trying so hard to appear tough in front of him?

"I can sense some kis up ahead," Gohan spoke, as Vegeta stopped in midair. The young boy noted that one of the prince's dark brows twitched with irritation. Taking a deep breath, Vegeta focused and honed in a group of warriors in the distance. He was furious that Gohan, the halfling cub, had sensed the energies before he. So what if the brat had far more practice? He was a prince! He was supposed to be stronger, better…

He growled, but not being able to place the energies specifically, he turned to the boy. "Frieza's soldiers, most likely. They're in a large group."

Gohan nodded and the pair took off in the direction of the assembly of warriors. When they'd landed, the boy watched with shaking limbs as the gallivanting armored men and women laughed over a pile of the deceased.

He turned his head away from the sickening sight to see that Vegeta only smirked.

* * *

With a turn of her screwdriver, Bulma hummed happily to herself as she placed the final touches on the cycling water's filtration system. Getting to her feet, she tossed the tool over her shoulder and congratulated herself. This one would make her father proud, she thought with a smirk.

Before she let her haughty thoughts get the best of her, Bulma blinked and entered the capsule house to test her invention. Turning on the sink, she watched as the clear liquid fell from the spicket and covered the pile of dishes.

Turning off the water, she filled the dishwasher with soap and listened to the gentle hum of the appliance in a dreamlike state. It really was her day.

Racing into her room, ready to yank off her clothes and leap into the shower, Bulma paused; the green scouter on her nightstand was beeping. She repositioned her shirt and clipped the device over he ear. Blinking, she read the flurry of characters.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," she grabbed her gun as she raced outside and around to the back of the shelter. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_!"

She watched a pair of dots descend from the sky, forming into a pair of hulking figures as their features became visible.

It was a man, bearded and brawny, and a woman, leaner but equally intimidating. Bulma swallowed as she clutched the gun at her side. They landed in front of her and the woman smirked as she read her own scouter, light blue and gleaming in the sunset.

"Well Miverta," she spoke, voice low. "It seems today's our lucky day."

* * *

"But they're…" Gohan choked, voice barely a whisper. His dark eyes were wide and frightened. Vegeta's smirk faltered as he watched the boy stutter. "They're… they're… they're _eating _them."

"What other choice do they have?" Vegeta turned from the boy to the gruesome sight before them. "There aren't other options here. Not everyone has the luxury of a woman with containers of food. Besides, do not pretend you believed your competition innocent."

"Well, I knew they were evil but I didn't know they were," Gohan swallowed, "canni_balistic_."

"Nonsense brat," Vegeta narrowed his brows in concentration. "The woman, she cooks you meat, no?"

"But that's," he frowned, "that's different."

"How so?"

"They're animals," he explained. "Those monsters, they're eating _people_."

"The men before you," Vegeta gestured to the group of warriors in the distance, "they are the most vile, cruel, disgusting creatures in the universe. They are men of Frieza; this is how they behave."

Gohan blinked as the Saiyan Prince continued.

"They would kill you and I if they had half a brain cell and could sense us here. Do not mistake their ignorance, however. When we are exposed, they will fight and you will fight back because, if not, they will not hesitate to kill either of us."

He was stunned by Vegeta's words; he'd never heard the proud man string so many sentences together. He fought for his voice. "I won't be able to kill them…"

"Do you wish for yourself to end up in that pile? What about the woman?"

"I…" Gohan swallowed, watching as a woman bit into uncooked flesh. He didn't want to die, not yet, not this way… And, if there were anything he could do about it, he wouldn't let them hurt Bulma.

"You must fight to protect yourself, your prince, and Bulma," Vegeta said, placing a hand on the smaller Saiyan's shoulder. "I am not here to corrupt you, or to make you evil. It was done to me as a young boy, and I do not wish to repeat the same sin."

Gohan watched in shock as the prince's eyes darkened with emotion. Vegeta removed his hand from his shoulder and focused on something in the distance.

"But listen to me, brat, you are one of the last subjects I have and you will not be raised a weak, ignorant fool. You will be a proper Saiyan and you will fight as a proper Saiyan. You will join your prince in battle. It is the greatest honor a Saiyan warrior can have."

Nodding numbly, Gohan cleared his dry throat. He wasn't sure what else he could do, not after a speech of that magnitude from Vegeta. He sounded regal when he talked, and there was so much passion burning in his gruff tone that Gohan wasn't sure if he'd ignored the more impractical parts of his speech in favor for the fervor in his eyes and the way his powerful fists compressed at his sides.

And so, like a solider following Henry V after his moving Saint Crispen's Day discourse, Gohan willingly followed his prince into battle. Though there was something to gain out of defeating the French, as he'd written in his neat, elementary script for his mother, he wasn't quite sure what there was to achieve from fighting an unsuspecting group of Frieza's soldiers. Nothing, he decided, but Vegeta's respect.

* * *

She moved so quickly that Bulma couldn't see it. One moment the dark-haired woman was standing directly in front of her, and the next it was a void of empty space. Knowing enough about fighting and her own weakness, Bulma realized she wasn't actually gone but charging towards her. Her eyes might not have been able to work that quickly, but Bulma's mind was still lightening fast.

Steadying her weapon, she narrowed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

Hours of blasting boulders had taught her to sway with the recoil, and after the smoke had settled, Bulma watched with wide, blue eyes as the woman who'd not even bothered to fear her lay unmoving.

She didn't notice the way the burly man blinked in surprise, but she watched the woman's right hand twitched before stilling, her body limp and lifeless.

Bulma turned her head and puked.

She'd never killed anyone before. She'd never even considered it. The blast was in self-defense, sure, but where it had only temporarily wounded Vegeta, it had knocked this woman out. She obviously wasn't as strong as Vegeta, not that this should have surprised her, but, still, she blinked, seeing her accurately-place shot to the heart. Bulma couldn't calm her shaking hands or pounding heart.

Still stuck on this surprising feat, she didn't have time to realize the man had descended upon her. He grabbed her, pinning her a painful hold, and glared murderously into her eyes.

She winced.

His grip on her upper-arms loosened lightly, but still enough to convince Bulma if she actually managed to survive this she'd be sporting a pair of rather impressive bruises the next day. He blinked, as he seemed to notice something for the first time.

One of his hands lifted to brush her shoulder, and then dance across her cheek.

"You are an incredibly beautiful creature," he whispered, warm breath assaulting her face as she held her own breath. He probably hadn't brushed his teeth since arrival on Cerius, she thought with paling completion, her small nose wrinked in disgust.

"Not exotic by universal standards, no," he continued to speak, raking his fingers through her hair, "but definitely unlike anything I'm used to. Yes," his smile sent shivers down her spine, shivers she was sure he could feel due to their close proximity. "I'm going to enjoy you."

Her gun was hanging loosely in the arm he'd still firmly grasped, and she couldn't angle her wrist to get a good shot at him. With a frustrated groan, Bulma did the only thing she could in her compromising position – she shot his foot.

Wailing with pain, he loosened his hold on her and, almost reflexively, slapped the cheek he'd been caressing.

The smack had sent her flying backwards, but weapon still intact in her aching hand, she leveled it towards the charging beast and fired.

The first shot slowed him down, but he recovered and continued to pursue her, shouting angrily and she knew her punishment, if she were to fail, would be painful. With a deep breath, Bulma brought her rifle at arms length, securing it with both hands, and fired a round of ki blasts at the burly man until he lay face first on the ground before her and there was no energy left in her gun.

Dropping the weapon to rest at her side, and then spreading her fingers to let it fall to the ground with a thud, Bulma panted. She squeezed her eyes shut and brought a hand to her sweating brow.

For the second time that day, Bulma turned her head and emptied her stomach.

* * *

Gohan focused his energy on the woman before him, who dropped the raw limb from her hand and smirked. She was talking, most likely insulting he and Vegeta, the monkey-prince and the child, he'd heard through his foggy senses.

He turned his head to find Vegeta goading two soldiers, and then craned his neck to see the other two warriors, a man and a woman, taking off into the air.

"Cowards," the woman hissed, wiping a bloodied hand on her lycra uniform.

He rammed towards her, a crackle of yellow energy surrounding his small form as he sent a series of inaccurate punches and kicks in the direction of the looming female. She easily dodged his fury of attacks, but, when she tossed her head back with cruel laughter, he caught her jaw with his small fist and sent her flying back a few feet, landing with a thump on her rear.

Screeching in fury, the woman shot up and blasted a spiral of purple energy towards the Saiyan. He flew above the woman, positioning his hands so that the base of his palms mashed together, flinging a sequence of blasts down towards her. Though she dodged the first few, after he'd managed to hit her once, bringing her to the ground where she nursed her injured side, it was easy to continue to pound her with repeated blasts.

He faltered, but was encouraged by the image of Vegeta standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching him. The prince had already taken care of both his men, their lifeless bodies lay scattered across the clearing.

Turning back to the woman who was trying to gather her strength, Gohan felt the rush of energy in his palms. He focused it, saw the hint of violet in her alien eyes, the fear lingering there, and let the blast fizzle out in his hands. With a sigh, he turned to Vegeta who growled.

"I'm not weak," he told the older man. "But I'm not going to kill her."

With a grunt, Vegeta lifted one palm and blasted the shaking woman. Gohan sighed and powered down. Lowering himself to the ground, he stood before his prince. Gohan felt his heart wretch at the sight of death, but he knew it wasn't the emotional reaction a normal person should have. It almost felt surreal, that the woman had been only temporarily defeated or, more accurately, like she'd never actually been there at all. It was easier to live with a clean conscious, Gohan figured, if you lived as Vegeta did and pretend that, because they lived as animals, they could die as animals.

He thought of his father, who loved all creatures in the same fashion. He sometimes wondered if his father esteemed the nesting birds more than his own wife and son. Often he would miss dinner or skip an important event because he was out wandering in the forest. Would he be able to give up that ideology in favor of a worldlier version, one more resembling Vegeta's?

"You are a member of a proud group of warriors," he narrowed his brows. "Don't let your sentimental little heart get in the way of our people's destiny."

"Destiny?" Gohan blinked; watching as Vegeta turned his back to him, ready to take to the air.

"To avenge our people for what Frieza's done." His voice was low and short, and Gohan watched as the proud warrior departed, unsure if he would ever be able to live up to the man's standards if it required him to resort to killing. Gohan was more than willing to defend his people, no matter how elusive they were, but he would never darken his heart by killing someone without giving them a second chance first. He may be more levelheaded, harder, too, than his father, but he was in no way akin to Vegeta.

* * *

It was rather difficult to bandage a right arm with an already wrapped left arm. Bulma held the gauze between her teeth as she cursed the boys who'd abandoned her to fend for herself. Self-pity did wonders for fueling her anger and she finished crudely tending to her bruised limbs with an irritated frown.

Glancing in the mirror, Bulma assed her injuries. She went to the bathroom sink and turned on the hot water, checking to see if the water heater had been properly installed. With a sigh of relief, she ran the warm liquid over a washcloth and cleaned one corner of her bloody, swollen lip.

She looked atrocious, she thought, turning off the water and stripping herself of her spoiled clothes. After a long, hard day she deserved a shower, and she entered the steaming water trying to rid herself of the unclean feeling of death and destruction, blood and puke, and of anger and loathing.

When she exited the water, clean and refreshed, she toweled off her hair and dressed herself in her pajamas. She made herself a pot of hot cocoa and was just removing it from the stove when the boys burst into the house.

"Bulma!" Gohan called cheerily from the doorway. "Is dinner ready? I'm _famished_!"

Her spine stiffened and she turned to face the pair, a lethal glint flashing in her eyes.

Gohan swallowed.

"Fix your own goddamned dinner."

He noted her bandaged arms and swollen lip, when she tried to march proudly passed them her strut was interrupted with a slight limp.

"Bulma," Gohan frowned, "I guess you had a hard day too, hm?"

She turned to glare at him but her expression faulted as he noticed his weathered appearance and various scrapes and contusions. Her eyes darted to Vegeta, who was still standing expressionless by the doorway as he watched her, in no better shape, and she brought her finger to her lips.

"Alright, sit down," she nodded. "I'll have dinner ready in a few."

Taken aback by her mood swing, Gohan was about to comply when he watched her go to the sink and turn on the water.

"Bulma!" He shouted in surprise, grin encompassing her features.

She turned and smiled back. "Yes, between fending off death and holding down the fort today, I also managed to install running water. You're welcome."

Feeling particularly guilty for leaving her alone, after dinner Gohan offered to do the dishes. Bulma was more than happy to comply. Vegeta left the table and entered the washroom without a word.

Bulma watched him go as she sat at the table, sipping her hot cocoa with a thoughtful expression.

"He's had a tough life," Gohan said, standing on his tiptoes as he put away some dishes. "Today he opened up a little bit. He was being bossy, but, still, I think he told me he had a rough childhood."

Bulma nodded. "I would imagine so. Being a prince certainly accounts for his stuck-up attitude, but I think all the pride and pent-up aggression is due to a rough past." She thoughtfully tapped her chin, having to remind herself that she wasn't Vegeta's psychologist. Still, the image of a young Vegeta, sad and alone, made her heart ache.

"He'd kill us for talking about him like this," Gohan whispered, eyes darting nervously towards the bathroom door.

She laughed. "Oh, grow a spine Gohan."

He continued to unload the dishwasher for a while as the pair sat in silence. Eventually, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry we left you today, Bulma."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied her mug, but she shrugged. "You do what you have to do, right? I mean, we're going to die eventually."

"But we have to a last a long time," Gohan smiled. "So when we get back to Chikyuu everyone will be impressed. Dad won't be ashamed that I won't make a good fighter and everyone will stop thinking you're useless. You're not, you know that, right? You managed to keep yourself alive today, without our help." He nodded towards the sink. "Plus your inventions are awesome."

She giggled and thanked him and he asked her if he could have some hot chocolate before bed.

"I think you're beyond having to ask me for permission, little guy." She smiled fondly at the boy. "Besides, this is your home – you may have whatever you'd like."

* * *

As if he didn't need another reason to despise the woman and her hospitality, she'd given him running water. He'd beaten himself up over the luxuries she'd provided him, convincing himself that he was now sticking around to ensure the brat was raised a proper Saiyan, and it had nothing to do with her, but – _fuck _– he'd forgotten how good a hot shower felt.

He exited the shower, causing a cloud of steam to escape with him, and reached for the drying cloth she'd provided him. He ran it over his hair and shoulders, brought it to his face and inhaled. Dropping the towel to the floor as though it'd burned him, he dried off by raising his ki and fought the urge to blast the soggy, loathsome garment on the floor. The cloth that was filled with _her _scent.

He dressed and entered the living area, suppressing a growl as he noticed the very same woman was seated at the table with another mug filled with disgusting, tainted liquid.

"Hey Vegeta."

"Hn." His expression hardened. She had the nerve to smile at him.

"Would you like some hot cocoa?" She asked, getting up and pouring him a mug before he'd even had the chance to respond. Not that he would have.

He took a seat at the table as she joined him, watching him like a hawk as he sniffed and tested the liquid. It was certainly better than that foul-smelling 'instant coffee' she always guzzled.

When he lifted his dark gaze to meet hers, he noticed her swollen cheek. He'd assessed her injuries earlier, but he'd failed to note the inflamed skin on her face. He saw now the way she winced when she smiled. He wondered why it didn't stop her from smiling.

He brought his hand up to her cheek and watched as she recoiled from his touch. His hand felt warm, but his unexpected move frightened her and, despite his gentleness, it pained her as well.

"That will bruise." He told her, unsure why his mouth decided to voice his thoughts.

She nodded, looking away from his intense gaze. "I know. That bastard got a good hit on me."

After a beat, she was once again studying him with her big, stupid blue eyes. He had to suppress a snarl.

"Their bodies are out back," she finally spoke. "Do you think you could, er, dispose of them before Gohan sees?"

"The boy's seen the dead before."

Bulma sighed. "They'll eventually stink up the place. Please?"

"Fine," he mumbled, getting up from the table and reluctantly leaving his steaming mug.

She led him around to the back of the house and Vegeta frowned at the two, sprawling corpses. He was actually quite surprised that she'd managed to fend off both of them. They were not soldiers of Frieza, but they seemed strong enough, light-years away from the woman's puny strength.

"Did you know them?" She asked, crossing one arm below her chest and hooking her fingers around the elbow of her other. "They were… friends of yours?"

He shook his head. "Never seen them before." With that, he gathered a blast in his hands and Bulma squinted against the blinding light, looking eerily angelic against the darkness of the evening. Without hesitation, Vegeta blasted away the woman's body and then the man's. Bulma continued to look away as the smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air. She would not show Vegeta her weakness, she vowed, and fought to keep the contents in her stomach in check.

"Did you enjoy your shower?" She asked as the pair made their way round to the front of the house.

His shoulders stiffened as he paused in doorway. "It was adequate."

She laughed. "Would it kill you to compliment me every once in a while?"

"I would rather not waste my breath, woman."

Bulma watched the shadow of a smile grace his firm lips and she wondered if she were making progress with him. She followed him back to the table and couldn't help the swell of happiness that filled her gut as he continued sipping from his cup.

She placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "I bet Frieza didn't let you have hot cocoa, hm?"

Her voice was teasing, but though his expression wasn't much altered, she could sense his shift in moods the way she could feel a cloud eclipse Chikyuu's sun.

She regretted her words. The Vegeta who had almost smiled (and not a cruel, sadistic smile, but a real, content smile) was gone and back was the hardened shell of an introverted man. Bulma sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"For grating my nerves?" He snapped, one of his thick brows lifting. "For being the most annoying, vulgar, insolent bitch in the universe?"

Her concern vanished as her temper got the best of her.

"Fuck you, Vegeta." She wanted to curse him, to tell him she could take all of this away if she was so inclined. He needed her just as much as she needed him, she fought the urge to screech.

However, the corner of his lips pulled back into a smirk as his dark eyes raked her figure. "Maybe later. But for now, I'm going to get some sleep."

She blinked as she watched his retreating figure. If she'd been wearing a jacket over her shirt she'd have tugged it over her breasts. She felt violated, exposed; she blushed, not to mention a little hot.

* * *

So. Many. Scenes. Some were very fun to write, and others much more difficult. I usually favor two or three long, seamless scenes rather than a bunch of short, back-and-forth ones, but I thought it may give the feel that things are going on at the same time. We haven't really seen the trio split up, and change is good... right?

Things will get a bit steamy in the next few chapters, so if you search for this story, make sure you allow for "M" because, as promised, the rating will be going up. I've considered moving said scenes to another hosting site, but I doubt I will. As always, I'm interested in hearing your thoughts.

Thanks everyone for the kind words of encouragement and the constructive feedback.

-Lady Lan


	9. Chapter 9

His performance the previous day had apparently impressed Vegeta, and the proud prince had taken it upon himself to personally train the young Saiyan.

Gohan groaned. He was tired and miserable and just wanted to retreat to his favorite stream and waste the day away swimming with the fish. It was a million times more fun than this, not to mention five hundred billion times less stressful.

His back flush against a tree trunk, Gohan clinched his eyes shut and panted as he heard Vegeta's shout echo through the woods. It was futile to hide now that he'd so stupidly taught the man to sense ki.

"Brat! You'd better not be hiding from me." There was a short pause, which allowed Gohan to catch his breath before Vegeta materialized in front of him. He winced in pain.

"Stupid weakling." Vegeta's snarl didn't catch him off guard, but his small limbs were too weak to move. He'd been dodging attacks for hours and he was tired and hungry. At least when his dad trained him they'd pause for a snack or two. "I don't even know why I bother training you."

"Then don't," Gohan wheezed.

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that easily. I did not waste an entire afternoon for you to be reduced to a pathetic excuse for a Saiyan. You won't be lazy, not while I'm around."

Gohan wiped his brow with the back of his hand and clinched his other fist at his side. The cord of muscles, abnormally developed for a boy of his age from Chikyuu, flexed and he could feel the tenderness as a result of the day's assault. Yes, he'd definitely need a nice, relaxing swim before the day was over.

"Now, if you're done sulking, face me like a man."

Gohan sighed. He wanted to scream that he _wasn't _a man and he didn't want to be anytime soon, but it was futile arguing with Vegeta. Vegeta was more self-assured than, than, he chuckled to himself, more self-assured than Bulma.

A muscle at Vegeta's jaw flexed, "What's so funny, brat?"

"Nothing," he amended. Straightening his spine and pushing back his shoulders, Gohan stepped towards the Saiyan. "One more spar and then we can bug Bulma to make us lunch?"

The Saiyan Prince glared coolly at the boy, but made no sound to counter the suggestion. Well, Gohan thought as the pair began powering up, Vegeta may have been a coarse, heartless jerk, but he was still a Saiyan, and if there was anything that could stop a Saiyan from training it was a good, home cooked meal.

* * *

That afternoon, as she was putting away the dishes after lunch, Bulma discovered a few boxes of muffin mix and she was overcome with the desire to bake. Sure, it wouldn't be from scratch like her mother made, but she was positive Vegeta had never had muffins before and it would be a treat he'd take advantage of after he was done with his rigorous training.

Gohan had complained over lunch that he was being worked too hard, but Bulma knew that Vegeta simply valued perseverance. If you were going to live long enough to fight Frieza, you sure as heck better be strong enough to defeat him.

Vegeta had rambled on about how Saiyans increased in strength when they were injured; an interesting genetic ability, she thought, but she and Gohan were a little uncomfortable with his plan. The idea was that he and Gohan would fight to near-death each day and become stronger the next.

Bulma had frowned and shot him an incredulous glance while Gohan looked on, slack jawed. He could barely take one day of training with Vegeta, there was no way he was going to survive, well, however long they'd be stuck on this rock - not if the prince was purposefully trying to bring him to a state of near-death.

She set the box of muffin mix to the side and began to rummage through her capsules, searching for one that held a muffin pan.

She'd discovered another set of towels, none of which were as soft or fluffy as her favorite towel that had been blown up along with the first capsule house, but they would do. She'd also found a stack of blueprints, which, while of no immediate interest, she thought they might come in handy when, in the future, boredom inevitably struck.

Of course she wouldn't be able to build any of the things the designs called for. She simply didn't have the parts, not to mention the manpower. Studying the plans for a microchip, the skin of her brow wrinkled in thought and she set the pile on the dining room table. Working on their designs and calculations would give her something to do later to pass the time.

Fishing through another set of capsules, Bulma set aside the assigned numbers she was already familiar with and, eventually, uncovered the coveted muffin pan capsule.

* * *

Bulma licked the spoon as she watched last batch of muffins rise in the oven. The capsule home was already filled with the delicious smells from her previous two batches, and she fought to hide the irritation that came with being, once again, left alone.

It was well after dinner and neither Gohan nor Vegeta had turned up. She wondered if they were still training. She frowned, anger melting away as she found herself hoping they were both still intact.

She trusted them enough, and so, as she pulled out the muffins she set them beside the others, wiped her hands on her pants and set out to look for the boys.

Bulma was growing accustomed to knowing what time of day it felt like and juxtaposing it with what it actually was. Take now for example; it was after dinnertime but one of Cerius' suns was slipping its way above the horizon and there was a splattering of light across the cool dew of the grass. It felt like dawn.

She sighed.

Rounding the house towards the woods, Bulma froze mid-step as she spotted the Saiyan prince, knees locked around a tree branch as he hung, upside down, doing sit-ups. Shirtless.

Clamping her eyes shut, Bulma felt the rush of heat to her cheeks, turning them a dramatic rose color.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and she cocked open one eye to see him flip from the branch to land in front of her with his arms crossed. It was one fluid motion and she was rather impressed.

She regained control of her vocal chords. "I was, um, looking for Gohan…"

"With your eyes closed?" He asked, brow lifting as he sensed her panic. "Aren't we talented?"

"Er," she blinked, "have you seen him?"

"Brat ran off after lunch. It seems my training's too much for him."

"Vegeta," she breathed, keeping her eyes trained on his face so she wouldn't see the trails of sweat falling from his neck to chest, and disappeared into the material of his pants. They were all trails she found herself wanting to trace with her tongue. Her favorite Vegeta-fantasies had increased tenfold as soon as he'd shown the teeniest bit of interest. And frankly admitting to being open to fucking her, in those words, precisely, was as good an invitation as any.

Shaking her head to rid herself of naughty thoughts, Bulma narrowed her eyes. Protect Gohan first, get into Vegeta's pants later, she repeated, the slogan was quickly becoming her own personal mantra. "He's just a kid. Give him a break."

"He's a Saiyan, he doesn't _need _a break. Any weakness he's acquired is from being raised on your pathetic planet." He crossed his arms. "I plan to beat it out of him."

She rolled her eyes. Could Vegeta managed to insult anything without accusing it of being weak?

"You know," she began, smiling at the strange mix of anger and lust he always managed to stir inside of her. "You really should relax. Take a break for once, unwind."

He studied her with a hardened, unwavering expression. The blasted woman was once again wasting his time.

Ignoring his irritation, Bulma shot him a suggestive glance. "I can help you with that, you know."

A small victory, she thought, as the Saiyan prince look aghast. A very uncharacteristic blush tinged his dark cheeks and Bulma ran a finger through her hair, anticipating his reaction.

When disbelief seemed to be the extent of it, she nodded her head in the direction of the house with a flirtatious grin. "C'mon."

Inside the home Vegeta's Saiyan senses made him aware of two very important things: the first, there was a pleasant aroma filling the house, the smell of freshly baked sweets. The second, as the woman leaned across the countertop, he was invited with a view of her backside. That was the reason he was following her, after all. She was rather vulgar, but she'd been blushing prettily around him a lot more often, glancing at him through her lashes. He was actually a bit curious to see how she was planning on helping him relax.

When she turned around with a bottle of lotion, his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.

"Sit," she commanded. He was helpless but to comply.

Taking a seat at the couch, body rigid, he asked, "Where is the boy?"

"I didn't lie to you," she answered, coming behind him and squirting a dollop of lotion onto her hand. "I was looking for him outside."

A snide retort was building on his lips, but it was forgotten as soon as the woman's hands brushed against his shoulders. If his posture was stiff before, it was positively rigid now. Bulma sighed, kneading his shoulders and watching the way his muscles bulged against tanned skin as he flexed.

"Relax," she whispered, warm breath on his ear. He slid his eyes closed, feeling the strange mix of relief and tension her touch brought. It was her ministrations, gently working at the kinks in his shoulders.

She dipped her hands, slick with lotion, down the contours of his back and brought them back to his shoulders where she continued to melt his resolve, tracing the natural lines of his physique.

With her thumbs she worked out the knots between his shoulder blades, bringing her attention back to his shoulders momentarily before dipping one hand to the front of his hardened body, her fingertips sweeping across a pectoral.

Bulma blushed as she straightened herself back up, bringing her hands once again to his back. The shift to his front had been a slip in judgment and she was glad she was behind him so he couldn't see her embarrassment. But, holy shit, he was so firm everywhere.

Her eyes darted to his spandex pants and she nearly sighed wistfully. Okay, so, not _everywhere_.

The front door opened and she jumped away from the couch as Vegeta's muscles tensed in surprise.

Gohan blinked at the pair. He had no idea what they were doing and even less of a clue as to why they looked so guilty.

He inhaled.

"Hey, Bulma," he grinned. "Are those muffins?"

"Yeah," she breathed, proud of herself for sounding so calm when just moments before it felt like her heart had jumped to her throat. And just moments before she'd been wanting to jump a certain Saiyan prince.

"Awesome," Goahn laughed, piling a few chocolate-chip, banana nut, and blueberry muffins in his hands before disappearing into his room without another word.

"Er, yes," Bulma nodded, grabbing the lotion and placing it on the counter. When she turned around Vegeta was biting into a muffin and she smiled at the curious way he studied the food.

"You humans are so odd," he mumbled.

With a nod, she grabbed a blueberry muffin and, once in the safety of her room, shut the door. With her back against the cool metal, she slid to the floor, legs sprawled in front of her. Blinking, Bulma bit into the muffin with a distant look and flushed cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

* * *

Gohan tiptoed out of his room, casting a glance at the still-sleeping Saiyan on the couch with a sigh of relief. Padding quietly through the living room, he soundlessly slid the front door back into its frame before taking off at break-neck speed towards the stream.

He enjoyed swimming, and he certainly preferred it to training with Vegeta. Making his way to the brook, he shed his clothing and dove into the clear water. Paddling on his back, looking up into the bright, sunny day, he smiled.

Vegeta would probably come looking for him as soon as he noticed he was missing, but he hoped Bulma could stall him some. She was good at mouthing off angrily at about how he was only a kid, and, though he didn't want to be "only a kid", he was grateful for the support.

He frowned. Vegeta was mean.

Gohan hoped the prince didn't have any kids of his own some day. He would probably be extremely bossy and strict, and he'd probably make them train constantly. He thought of his mother and her study habits. Sure, he'd managed to survive with her for years, but she had nothing on Vegeta's severity. Chichi was the epitome of tough love; Vegeta was just plain tough.

He was pretty sure, though, that Vegeta wouldn't be having any kids. His mom had told him that only married people could have kids and he doubted anyone would want to marry someone like Vegeta.

So, he decided, for now at least, the universe was safe.

* * *

When he threw the door open in the midst of his rant, anger pounding so hard he could feel the blood reverberating in his ears, he found the woman once again at her odd ways.

She was sitting on the couch, knees bent, chewing on the end of a pencil as she stared down at a booklet in her lap. Still in her sleeping clothes with a mug of coffee at her side.

"Good afternoon, Vegeta," she greeted, glancing up momentarily from her Sudoku.

"Where's the boy?"

Not looking up from her puzzle, she shrugged. "Haven't seen him."

When he didn't move from the door, she shut the booklet. Bulma could feel his presence clogging the room and, with such company it would be impossible to concentrate on anything else. So she sipped her coffee and smiled.

"He's avoiding you, most likely."

"Hn."

The grin widened as she watched him cross his arms and his third favorite expression, frowning disappointment, flittered across his face. He reminded her of a spoilt child who wasn't getting his way.

"How're you feeling?" She asked, eyeing his every move. When he raised a brow in confusion, she elaborated. "More relaxed?"

He was purposefully ignoring her. He only wished there were food on the table so he would have a reason to remain in the room with the strange woman. Her eyes were always on him and the smile gracing her features was almost mocking.

"You know," she said, having the nerve to smirk sexily at him. "Studies show that getting massages improves stamina, and help advance workout sessions. Not only do they work out kinks and tight muscles, but, also, they rid your body of toxins and increase blood circulation.

"Not to mention massages produce endorphins. And if there's one thing you need…" she beamed. "I could continue to help you relax, you know."

He turned away from her as she wiggled her eyebrows. "No." His voice was firm, sure. "I do not want your foul peasant hands tainting me again."

She rolled her eyes. "You big oaf, did you just call me a peasant? We really need to bring you up to speed on your insults."

"If the boy is not here, then I will continue my training."

"Wait," she halted him, bringing herself to her feet. "You can relax without having my 'disgusting peasant' hands all over your sacred royal flesh."

He studied her, black eyes boring into her, one dark brow quirked. She couldn't decide if it were out of curiosity or unadulterated annoyance, but she shrugged and continued anyway.

"Take a break. What do you say to an entire afternoon of hanging out, eh? No training or beating children up. What do you say?" She smiled. "It'll be fun."

He studied the strange blue haired woman, who thought he was interested in having fun. She was insane. But he watched her, with her blue eyes shining with amusement. She really wasn't afraid of him, and she had no idea that he'd eventually have to snap her neck if no one else got around to it.

Vegeta sighed. "Fun?"

"Yes Vegeta," she leaned forward. "You know, I'm curious – what sort of things do you do for fun?"

"Train. Beat up children."

She smiled. "You're actually kind of funny when you're not being such an ass. But I suppose you're always being an ass." Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she began rummaging through a drawer.

"All the good entertainment was blown up with our last capsule house, but I know there's got to be a… Aha!" She turned around, a small box in her hands. "Take a seat."

Vegeta eyed her warily as he sat across from her at he kitchen table.

"These are cards," she explained, opening the box and dumping out a spell of small rectangles. "Don't Frieza's men play cards? Gamble."

He continued to stare at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay," she shuffled the deck and began dealing. "This game is called 'Go Fish'. Even the daftest humans can grasp it, so it shouldn't be a problem for you."

Vegeta ignored her pseudo insult and listened as she explained the rules.

"You humans are the most idiotic creates," he mumbled as he stared at his hand.

"Vegeta, do you have a four?"

"No."

She grinned. "Vegeta, you have to say 'Go Fish' if you don't have the card."

He quirked a brow. "No."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, drawing a card. "So, besides training and maiming unsuspecting children, what do you do in your spare time?"

"We do not have much spare time. Do you have a seven?"

She handed him a card and studied her deck. "Well, you have to have some sort of hobby."

"My only pastime is achieving my destiny to become the most powerful warrior in the universe."

Bulma blinked. "Way to dream big."

He glared at her from across the table and she sighed.

"This is what I mean, you need to relax. It can't be good to have all this pent up frustration. You have every right to be bitter, Frieza's a jerk, but you need to clear your head if you're going to be strong enough to defeat him." Her blue eyes were serious as she spoke; her voice casual, but sober. "You can't be irrational and let your temper get the best of you.

"By the way," she flashed a pair of kings and grinned, "I win!"

Vegeta growled and, lifting his index finger, blasted a hole through the pair of kings she'd been waving in his face.

"Vegeta!" She scolded. "This is exactly what I mean!"

"Hn."

The door opened and Gohan peaked in. He'd sensed Vegeta inside and had been purposefully ignoring going inside until he'd felt the blast.

Vegeta stood from the table and glared at the boy. "You wasted an entire day today, brat. We will make up for it tomorrow."

With that, the prince left the table and went outside. Gohan blinked and looked at the mess of cards on the table.

"You got him to play _cards_ with you?"

Bulma sighed. "Well I tried. But he'd ruined any chance of us playing again. Look at these kings, we'll know exactly what they are next time we play."

"But…" Gohan blinked. "All he ever wants to do is try to kill me and you and he were just playing _cards_?"

"I don't know," Bulma shrugged. She also thought it strange, spending her evening playing cards with one of the universes largest mass murderers. "I think we're allies now."

She grinned at Gohan. "You should go to bed. Sounds like you have a pretty tough day of training in store for tomorrow."

* * *

Late. Terribly, inexcusably late. I dropped off the face of the fanfiction earth due to finals and work and, oh, I'm packing and moving 1,300 north… Where it snows. Regularly!

Heh. This was the most difficult chapter to write. I'd originally planned on going in a different direction, but it felt rushed and wrong. So, instead, you got this. I promise the next chapter will be up much quicker. It will also be much more eventful.

A big thank you to everyone who's stuck with me and still reading!

-Lady Lan


	10. Chapter 10

He'd never wanted to strangle someone so badly in all his life. Which was saying something, because he'd certainly had particularly strong urges to do just that in the past. The issue lay in that he could no longer count on one hand how many days it'd been since he'd ended some unfortunate soul's life. The monotony was unsettling.

Which was why Bulma found herself in a rather unfortunate position when he came barging through the door, more brooding and temperamental than usual. Fire in his veins, ready to kill something, and the damn woman dared tempt him with her curves.

The blue haired woman remained bent over the table, glancing up as Vegeta slammed the door only long enough to flash him a small smile and return her nearly-undivided attention to one of the blueprints spread across the table.

"Good evening Vegeta," she said, smile still gracing her lips.

When he only grunted in response, she sat down her pencil and made her way into the kitchenette where she poured herself a mug of instant coffee. Turning around, the corners of her mouth wilted.

"You've got blood on your lips."

Wiping his mouth with the back of his glove, red stain smearing across the white material, Vegeta shrugged.

"I hope Gohan's in okay condition."

He noted the way her words held a threat she was incapable of backing up yet entirely sure of dishing out.

"He'll thank me tomorrow when he's stronger."

"Yes," she grinned. "He'll be the universe's toughest orthopedist."

"You humans," he muttered, turning his attention to the plans on the table to avoid looking at her, "so bizarre."

A silence settled between the pair as Vegeta studied the device the woman was working on. He cocked his head to the side as he studied it, unsure of what sort of purpose such a tracking device could be used for. With a frown, he wondered if it helped search out a particular precious Chikyuu metal. He also wondered if it were something worth getting his hands on.

And then he noticed the drawing peeking out from below it; with frantic, cramped calculations going up one side of the page in such chaos that he almost could not make out the meaning of such a device.

Almost.

"Pretty nifty, hm?"

His head shot up, and he studied the woman, now standing at his side, grinning over her coffee like an idiot. He grunted.

"Yeah," she nodded, face becoming somber as her eyes flittered over the calculations. He was almost surprised by her ability to go from grinning moron to serious scientist in mere seconds. He wondered if some of her more commonsensical brains had been neglected in order to make room for her scientific brilliance. He snorted. It would certainly explain why she was such an idiot half the time.

"If we were back on Chikyuu, I could make you one," she smiled, taping the sketch of the impressive device. "You know, if we all make it, you should come back with Gohan and I, and I could build you a gravity room. Maybe then you'd stop beating up the poor kid."

He could see the playful grin on her features, how her blue eyes shone with lighthearted humor, but he was at loss for words. Of course she'd never make him a gravitation chamber because it was impossible for the both of them to leave this planet. One of them would die, and it most certainly wasn't going to be him.

He didn't know why such an unsettling feeling clinched his stomach, but he blamed it on the woman's meals. Not that in a few moments he wasn't going to be demanding another.

When she stepped away from the table and back into the kitchenette, he studied the gravitational chamber for a moment longer, wondering if he could have ever stayed on Chikyuu, had things been different.

* * *

She stared off the side of the platform, seeing nothing but clear blue sky in every direction. With a deep breath, she felt the clean air fill her lunges and depart her body, leaving her slightly more relaxed than before. That was the power of taking slow, deliberate breaths. When you were concentrating on breathing it made it difficult to worry about all of the other stresses in your life.

And the stresses in her life were grand indeed.

She felt him moving toward her before she saw him, or before she heard his clunky footsteps echo against the ground. She had to fight the urge not to roll her eyes at the thought of it. Not for the first time, she wondered how such a skilled and graceful fighter could be such an irresponsible and clumsy man. How someone so kindhearted could be so thoughtless, and how someone that could brighten everyone in his vicinity's day could make her, his own wife, feel so angry.

"Hey Chichi," he said, joining her by the edge of the lookout and handing her a glass of tea. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't need to turn her head in his direction to sense his nervousness. He was expecting her to explode. And, truthfully, she wanted to. Her baby boy, the only child she had, was on a distant planet with none other than the woman responsible for some of his husband's most idiotic adventures. However, Chichi was anything but predictable, and she turned her cool gaze to her husband and watch as he swallowed.

"I'm angry, Goku," her voice was soft, but certain. "You let our son go and battle to the death on a whim because you thought you might get a good fight out of it."

She watched him shrug, one of his impossibly broad shoulders reaching nearly to his ear before dropping back down in defeat. "Sorry Chi. It was stupid of me."

"Yes," she nodded, looking back into the blueness of the sky, "it was stupid of you."

"I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything for a long period of time. He didn't nudge her and she remembered that, while her husband wasn't always there, when he was he was always a good listener. She tried her breathing trick once more before speaking.

"I used to be a fighter too, you know."

He smiled fondly. "I remember. You were the best, Chichi."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "_Were_?"

"Oh," he laughed, "come on. You still are. I bet you could take on half the guys training in there."

She nodded confidently. "I know how it feels, to want to battle, to want to win. I won lots of times. I thought maybe that's why we'd work so well together."

"You could fight _and _ride Nimbus," he said, and though she was still looking out into the sky she could feel his gaze focused solely on her. "That's why I love you."

"Yes, well, I grew up," she said, voice once again stern. "Kami knows one of us has to be an adult."

As the wind blew, wafting some of Chichi's stray locks in front of her face, Goku debated brushing the dark strands away from her equally dark eyes. It was another reason he loved her, but he was incapable of finding the proper way to phrase it. He was never good when it came to sappy stuff, but somehow Chichi always found a way to forgive him. He felt her sigh beside him and couldn't help but smile when he felt her head rest against his shoulder.

"He'll be okay," he said, finally. "Gohan's a good kid. He's smart and strong, and responsible."

Chichi grinned out into the blue sky as she rolled her eyes.

"No thanks to his father…"

* * *

She sat up in bed and wiggled her toes, which were quite frozen. Rubbing her arms, she got up from bed to read the thermostat, which told her that it had dropped ten degrees since she'd gone to bed. Slipping on a pair of socks, Bulma tried to fall back asleep but it was futile.

Opening her eyes and staring up at the ceiling, she decided she much preferred sex-dream-insomnia (staring her new favorite prince, of course) over this new breed of nightmare.

The nightmare she thought she'd be able to escape by pushing it to the back of her mind the way she'd been doing for the past week. It seem to be working, cooking and working on projects and yelling at Vegeta, but at night, when her subconscious was hard at work, she'd been forced to remember those pair of violet, alien eyes. The eyes she'd permanently dimmed and left lying behind the capsule home to have Vegeta finish off.

Death was something Bulma had never really had to grasp. She'd never killed anyone before, and being in possession of the Dragon Radar meant that whenever a close friend or ally died, they weren't really gone for very long. It skewed her perception of life a bit, but it was becoming clear that earlier, when she'd blasted the woman away with her ki gun and then finished off her partner, Bulma had ended someone's life and they weren't ever coming back. And all because of _her_.

She'd puked at the time, but it had been more out of disgust of the display and fear of her previous position. However, now, laying awake late into the single hours of the night, she found herself wondering if she would now join the lines of her former foes filing into the gates of hell because of her sins.

She sighed and, sitting up, rubbed her eyes and decided to make herself a glass of hot tea.

Tiptoeing into the living room, she tried her hardest to be quiet so as to not awaken the sleeping prince. He was pissed enough when he woke up on his own time, and she didn't particularly feel like suffering his wrath right now. Her defenses were down and she was fairly sure her arguing abilities had gone with them.

Which is why the curse she'd shouted after stubbing her toe against the doorframe was more out of anger than sheer, throbbing pain.

"Good gods woman," Vegeta mumbled, opening his eyes against the darkness to find the foolish woman hopping about the living room, clutching her foot.

"Sorry Vegeta," she mumbled, leaning against the wall for support. "Go back to bed; I didn't mean to wake you."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and stood up. Bulma tried to erase the pleasant feeling that flittered through her lower half as the prince rolled back his shoulders and stretched his neck. He was bunching with rippling muscles and … and …

"What is it now, woman?"

She smiled as she began to make her way into the kitchen. "I'm sure you're just dying to hear all about it."

He almost smirked, but sat up on the couch instead and watched her absent of emotion as she settled on the recliner adjacent to him.

"If I listen to your bullshit will you give me one night of interrupted slumber?"

Bulma laughed. "Thank you Vegeta, your unbridled frankness is just what I needed."

He was surprised to find her words absent of either bitterness or sarcasm. He quirked a brow.

"How do you do it?" She paused, before clarifying. "How do you sleep at night, knowing what you've done?"

He sighed, unaware he'd signed up for _this _tonight.

"I get tired; I close my eyes; I sleep."

"But don't you ever have, you know, bad dreams?"

"Nightmares," he corrected. He could tell her he'd had more than his fair share of nightmares, but, of course, he didn't. Instead, he took the opportunity to insult her. "Please tell me you're not up all night because you killed two warrior in self defense? You really are trying my patience, woman."

"I…" she sighed, maybe the ever-heartless Vegeta wasn't the best person to talk with about this. But she looked around, and realized she had no one else. She did not want Gohan to be there when she spilled all her deep, dark secrets, so what other choice did she have?

"I know it was self defense. But I still ended their lives."

"If you hadn't killed them, they would have killed you," he wasn't sure why he was trying to comfort her. "It's they way the universe works. Survival of the fittest. You may not be worth your weight in strength, but you have a somewhat decent brain, when you decide to use it. So you can, if you choose to, make it here."

She sighed, "I don't know if this is the kind of place I want to make it in…"

He laughed humorlessly. "Tough break woman. This is the only universe there is."

"But, well," she chewed on her lower lip, contemplating Vegeta's bitter tone, before continuing, "why is it so awful?"

"People are shitty; that's just how it works." Really, he was unsure why he'd even bother explaining things that were so clearly common sense.

"Then I guess I'm not better than the rest of them," she murmured, looking down at her hands. She couldn't actually see anything resembling blood on them, but the metaphor worked well enough on her.

"You look pathetic," he grumbled, "I was a prince, taken from my people when I was still a boy, but I didn't wallow and feel sorry for myself. I worked hard and I trained myself to live through their beatings, to turn their insults into a reason to push myself harder. That is why I will live to fight Frieza and your pathetic excuse for a corpse will remain on this planet."

She blinked.

"Now leave me," he commanded, and she thought he looked rather regal commanding her to do so. She wanted to shout at him, to remind her whose house this was and why he had no right to boss her around, but it was late and she was tired and she figured she and Vegeta would have an eternity to argue in hell and what point did it make trying to convince him to be a better person tonight?

"Goodnight Vegeta," she mumbled before going to bed. She thought, though, before falling back asleep, that he might have been pushing her to be stronger so she could make it in this universe. She guessed at how many people Vegeta might have killed, and how many he regretted. She doubted he ever thought about any of them, but she wondered if the Vegeta, the one who'd apparently been taken from his planet and his throne as a boy, was as callous as the man currently sleeping in her living room.

When she'd finally succumbed to sleep, she was no closer to finding an answer.

* * *

Every muscle in his body felt rigid, as though he were a coiled spring ready to burst, to become itself again. He was restless and bored, and he itched for a fight; anything besides trying to train the halfing into facing him like a true opponent. Vegeta could _feel _the boy holding back, and no matter how hard he hit or kicked or yelled, the boy wouldn't use his true strength against him.

It was bad enough that he'd lost sleep the night before, staying up contemplating the words of the idiotic woman. The woman who thought her single, blameless deed somehow damned her.

He was ready to explode, and yet he wanted to be nowhere near the boy or the woman when he'd do it. It was becoming strikingly clear that, eventually, one or the other would have to die. Vegeta would never sacrifice himself, nor would he _protect _them, he was confident of his own selfishness to clearly arrive at this conclusion. However, there was a tiny part of him that knew, if he had to, he could kill them. And then there was that nagging part of him, smaller than the other, which told him that even though he _could _kill them, he didn't want to.

And that was the most alarming of them all.

So he decided, heaving with exhalation as he glared at the cowering boy below him, that he would have to leave. It was the only plausible scenario. He could go to the other side of the planet, seek out the battle he craved, and he could leave the pair from Chikyuu for someone else to perform the deed he himself felt uncompelled to do.

Steadying his breathing, he informed the brat he had one, final chance to fight him like a man. When Gohan only wiped his brow with a shaky hand and glared up at the warrior, Vegeta blasted him, convincing himself that the boy would once again thank him when he was that much stronger in the morning.

* * *

On the plus side, she thought, idly washing dishes, their food supply had gone up and the amount of dirty dishes significantly down. The thought was accompanied with a bitter laugh before Bulma tossed in the towel and wiped her fingers on the fabric of her pants.

Gohan was playing solitaire on the kitchen table, the ugly burn healing significantly in the three days since Vegeta had blasted him. The young boy, as noble and strong as his father, had refused to take a Senzu bean for the injury even though she knew it must have pained him. He (unsuccessfully) convinced her that it wasn't so bad, and reminded her that their Senzu beans were precious and they might actually need them one day. So she nodded and let the boy heal the old fashioned way.

He was Saiyan, after all, and was already coming around quite nicely.

Staring out the window, Bulma frowned as she watched dark clouds gather in the sky. It seemed foreboding, like a cheesy Chikyuu film when things were about to take a turn for the worst. However, in reality, with Vegeta gone things were quieter and more peaceful. She blushed a lot less and hardly ever lost her temper. She also found things a little duller, but she pushed that thought from her mind the instant it entered it.

She was far too angry at the Saiyan Prince for leaving. Not that she was surprised by his departure; she'd been expecting it, but he had just up and left – blasted poor Gohan and took into the air without saying a word to her.

She snorted as she peered over the boy's shoulder and watched him play cards. Bulma had never expected the Saiyan to say goodbye, but it would have been nice to receive some warning of his departure.

Musing Gohan's hair with a smile, she knew the moment he matched hers with an equally unsure, shaky one, that he also felt something else in the wake of Vegeta's disappearance. Sure things would be less loud and tumultuous, but they had also lost the security that came with having the worldly prince on their side.

* * *

Y'all didn't forget about our friends back on Chikyuu, did you? Well, I wanted to write the Chichi scene for a couple chapters, I just wasn't sure how to go about it. I wish I could teach a university course on "Women of DBZ and Why They Are Underappreciated and Awesome." I took an entire class on Bennet-Family Dynamics, so I believe it's somewhat plausible. Er… anyway…

I know it's a bit shorter than usual, but it's only been five days, so please find it in your hearts to forgive me.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I especially appreciate all the reviews for the last chapter. It definitely helped me get back into the quick-updatain' swing of things.

Much love, lovelies,

-Lady Lan


	11. Chapter 11

She pressed the glass rim of the bottle to her lips and let the malty beverage slip across her tongue and down her throat. It was tepid at most, but for some reason the beer made her insides swell with heat. The warmth of the liquid paired with the sweltering day caused beads of sweat to drip from her forehead and down her neck, some slipping uncomfortably under her shirt.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, she dropped the beer, sending it clanking onto the cracked ground, and ignored the heat. It was not without some difficulty, but she was working on her aim and needed to concentrate.

Steadying the pistol, she cocked one blue eye shut and gazed across the sight until everything was a blur except a single stone fixture jutting out of the ground several hundred yards away.

Letting out a deep breath she squeezed the trigger, releasing a powerful energy blast which sent her skidding backwards to watch as the blast zipped inches away from its intended target. A boulder to its right erupted into a tower of smoke.

Bulma cursed.

What good was it to have such powerful weaponry at hand when she lacked the accuracy to destroy intentional targets?

Her pride kept her from asking Gohan for assistance, it was too humiliating admitting to a boy his age that she needed help properly using an instrument she herself had single-handedly designed and assembled. No, all she needed was a little more target practice.

She swung her blue locks into a ponytail and set to work on her aim. It felt like she'd been at it for hours, and her arms cramped and her shoulders burned.

With a sigh, she tucked her gun into the waistband of her shorts and mounted her hover bike.

The warm breeze felt good against her face, and she let herself forget how she was, physically, the weakest person on the planet. Bulma prided herself in being capable without brawn, but it was beginning to look dreary for her partner and herself.

Landing in front of the capsule house, she reduced her speedy cycle to a palm-sized pill and stuffed it into her satchel bag as she entered the house.

Gohan was sitting on the sofa, reading a book, and he glanced up at her when she shut the door as though he were surprised to see her and hadn't been keeping note of her ki all afternoon.

"Sense anything?" She asked, entering the kitchen and filling her palms with cool water before splashing her face.

He shook his head. "No."

Spinning around, Bulma rested her backside against the kitchen counter and glanced at the boy. Yesterday afternoon he had sensed several powerful energies coming their way. He'd sat, frozen, on the edge of his bed as Bulma stood in his doorway listening intently to the play-by-play of where they were heading.

Raditz had said that some of the warriors would enjoy tracking the sitting ducks, and she knew powerless females and inexperienced children were not something such beings would pass up. Gohan had finally fallen asleep, after assuring himself and Bulma that they were headed in the opposite direction. Still, she had decided to sleep in his room that evening.

It was also why she'd spent the scolding afternoon outside, shooting rocks.

"He's not coming back," Gohan said, tipping the cover of his textbook shut. Bulma didn't need to ask who 'he' was.

"I know." Her voice was soft, not quite a whisper, but certainly lacking any of the confidence it usually held. And as an afterthought, "we don't need him."

Gohan tried to nod, to assure himself that Bulma was right. He'd seen how fervent the woman was. As he felt the group of warriors scouring the area, splitting up and then meeting back together, she'd vocalized a plan. When they came close, she'd had another strategy, and when one particular enemy closed in on them, she'd ordered him so surely. He could see the gears in her head constantly at work and he wished he could be so brave. He was literally shaking as Bulma placed a hand on his shoulder and assured him they would be fine.

"I can sense him," Gohan finally spoke. "He's far away, but his energy is familiar and I can feel him."

"So he's still alive." Bulma's hand flexed and she flattened it out again. "Good."

The silence in the living area was suffocating, and Bulma stretched and mumbled something about taking a shower just to break the quiet.

"Bulma?"

"Yes?"

"You can sleep in my room again," Gohan flushed at his words. "I mean, that way I can wake you if something comes our way."

Her lips spread into a tired smile and she ruffled his hair on the way to the bathroom.

"Thanks Gohan. But, kid, you've got to stop worrying. We'll be okay."

He nodded and opened up his book, finding it quite difficult to concentrate on the words that filled the pages. So, instead, he sat still and concentrated on his surroundings. He couldn't feel anyone coming their way just then, but that didn't mean the power levels he felt idly skirting their position wouldn't eventually find them.

* * *

The air was dense and laden with sticky humidity. When he inhaled deeply, it smelt of burnt flesh and recently spilled blood. He chuckled, released another blast from his gloved hands, breathing deeply once more as he took in the smoke and freshly disturbed ground.

Men shouted below him, a woman screeched commands, and Vegeta let out another chuckle.

_This _was what he wanted. _This _was what was familiar to him. Screams and the stench of death, the evidence of destruction lingering in the air. A smirked tugged on the corner of his mouth. Destruction _he'd _caused.

Yes, this was what Vegeta liked, no, craved – it was familiar. He wanted this, not playing house with a woman and child, not sleeping in warm shelters, eating prepared meals, and blasting away trees and punching nothing but air.

He was a warrior, and he was not to be contained.

A purple blast zipped by his head and he turned to the scaly creature below, growling with fury. He returned the blow with a series of small blasts, each ramming the soil and spilling ripe, blue alien blood. Rage filled his veins as he turned from the man who dared attack him to a woman standing flush against a tree, eyes closed.

He smirked, and materialized before her. She'd barely had a chance to scream before Vegeta plunged his hand through her gut and she fell slack against him, mouth agape as her hazel eyes took in their attacker.

Removing his hand, he watched as the body slid against the tree to slump awkwardly on the ground. He'd never particularly liked her; he'd once had to take Nappa to a regeneration tank and she'd stalled him by asking inane questions and pestering him about _how _it'd happen.

As his dark eyes surveyed her lifeless body, he remembered that she was a Gerbrailian, a decent sized planet with somewhat powerful people, powerful people that had tried Frieza's patience. He couldn't remember who exactly had done the purging or how long ago it was, but he knew with sudden clarity that it was most likely carried out the way his own world had been.

Spinelessly attacked, its only survivors those that had been off world at the time. He could not remember the Gerbrailian woman's name, not that it mattered, but she'd worked in the med bay. She was not a warrior, and certainly not as a spy.

He frowned; she'd signed herself up for this out of the slim chance that she would be able to avenge her people, to remove the smug smile from Frieza's face once and for all.

Veget kicked her body for good measure, as if to say _fat chance, that honor is mine and mine alone_.

So, he turned from her corpse and felt for the other energies in the area. There was a group of four nearby, and he took off in that direction.

Unknown to him, Vegeta had a sudden, flickering thought of the blue-haired woman. He saw her, pouty mouth and shining eyes, telling him her theories one why he shouldn't kill anyone. He tried to block it out, but something she'd said clogged his mind, something about how they should band together, all fight Frieza as a common enemy.

She was so obtuse at times he wondered how she'd developed coherent sentences, let alone houses that fit in the palm of your hand or guns that could injure Saiyan princes. However, he thought of the medic woman, how she'd have been a content member of his empire, she'd praise him for being the one to free her of the tyrant who'd destroyed her, and so many other's, homes.

He growled. Such thoughts were pointless; she was dead anyway, and who cared if there were others like her. He didn't need allies.

Picking up speed, he closed in on the four power levels he'd sensed earlier, eager to take out another leg in the ever-dwindling competition. First being sure that his thoughts would remain absent of possible alliances and that damn blue haired woman.

* * *

"Another splash of pepper and," she cocked her head to the side, watching as the soupy liquid boiled, "I guess we're done?"

Gohan smiled from the kitchen table as he watched her wrinkle her nose.

"I bet you'll be glad to back with your mom, hey?" She flashed him a grin before turning off the stovetop. "I mean, I'm funny and charming, not to mention easy on the eyes, but that woman can cook!"

Gohan shook his head, smile still lingering on his features, and returned his attention to the book. He was pretty sure he'd had the events in the textbook memorized, but it was a good distraction from the ki's he'd felt floating in and around what he'd coined as the 'danger zone'.

Bulma sat two plates of food on the table, and a large pot of rice and studied the boy. She knew he wasn't saying something, but she didn't pester him. He was mature for his age, and she thought he might just be trying not to scare her. With an unsure nod, she sat across from him.

"If it gets bad, you'll tell me?"

Gohan glanced up from his book, clearly surprised. "Yes ma'am."

"Now, Gohan, what did I tell you? Ma'am is for my mother."

The pair dug into the lunch in silence, Bulma glancing up each time Gohan's body stiffened or one of his small fists compressed around a utensil.

When they were almost done with lunch, Gohan's head shot up and he swallowed audibly.

"They're coming." His voice was firm, and she was helpless but to nod. "Get your gun, and capsules and things."

"Right, yes."

With speed she hadn't known she possessed, Bulma flew into her bedroom, swapping her slippers for a pair of boots, strapping Raditz's scouter over her eye, and grabbing her satchel, stuffed with as many capsules as she could find on her way outside.

Gohan was standing in front of the house, in a defense pose that almost made her smile in memory of Goku. But now was not the time to reminisce on such silly details, so she clutched her gun with a sweaty palm and glanced in the direction Gohan was glaring.

Her scouter flashed a series of numbers.

"There are four," she spoke, breath shaky.

Gohan nodded. "I'm not sure I can take them all."

Her smile was confident, though her hands shook. "That's what I'm here for."

"No, Bulma," he shot a sidelong glance at her, and she froze at the serious expression. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Well, too bad buddy." She grinned, eyes ahead as the power levels continued their path in their direction. "You don't _get _to protect me."

Before he had time to respond, Gohan watched in horror as four shapes descended from the shadows of what he'd once considered their wooded shelter. There was one figure, frighteningly tall, and two medium builds, a man and a woman, twins, he supposed, and a small being, resembling a koala bear.

He heard Bulma stifle a giggle and he knew she'd been glancing at the latter.

The tallest man growled, and Bulma's laughter became a choked cough.

"Well, well, well," he said, eyes darting from the blue haired woman to the small boy, "would you mind telling me how the pair of you've managed to make it so far?

"Fecome," he motioned to the woman who nodded and clicked the earpiece of her scouter.

With a melodic laugh, the woman rolled her eyes. "Powerless, the both of them."

"Well I'll take the brat," her twin grinned. "Looks Saiyan to me."

"Oh," she responded, "and we all know what years of getting beaten in the training room by Saiyans has done to you."

Bulma knew the moment they'd come into view that they were soldiers of Frieza, their battle armor and scouters was a telltale sign. What she hadn't expected was Gohan's tail to unravel from his waist and sway behind him. She'd seen Vegeta's do the same when angered and she wondered if it were unconsciously done.

"Definitely Saiyan," the man smirked, taking into the air, followed by his sister and then Gohan.

Bulma watched the three depart, Gohan looking dwarfed in the sky as he flittered back and forth, exchanging blows with the pair so quickly it seemed only a blur to her.

Lowering her gaze, Bulma frowned as the tall man watched the exchange, and the koala bear look-alike sighed lazily and turned his attention back on her.

"Not as powerless as we thought," he commented to the taller man. "Seems as though he can control his power level. Think this one can do the same?"

Bulma took a shaky step backwards as soon as the conversation became about her.

"Well," the tall man smirked. She noted that it was a cruel, sadistic smirk, one she was very familiar with, but it only brought fear to her gut. She frowned, probably because these two weren't half as sexy as her Saiyan Prince.

Not that Vegeta was _hers…_

"There's only one way to find out," he finished and Bulma was shaken from her previous inner thoughts.

The tall man lunged towards her, and she extended her gun, glanced carefully through the sight, and blasted him before spinning on her heel and making a mad dash through the woods.

Escaping death was becoming a staple in her life, and she didn't think much of it as she hurdled a fallen tree branch and felt the sweat gathering beneath her shirt.

"Just another day for the beautiful heiress," she mumbled to herself as the woods around her shook with a vengeful scream from the taller man.

Her aim had been improving, and she turned around to see he was chasing her, one of his beefy palms over his left eye where she'd pegged him with a blast.

She skidded to a stop, steadied her gun and sent another shot flying, this time hitting his right eye, rendering him virtually blind.

He raised his arms and returned her blows, which she scrambled away from and, from her position, laying down, rump on the ground, she sent a final, decisive blast to his chest.

The giant fell with a dull thud, and Bulma rested her head against the foliage with a pant.

She lay there for a moment, catching her breath and letting her heartbeat slow. Then she rose to her feet, and shifted the satchel bag to her other shoulder, evening the weight of her load.

With shaky legs, she hurried back to the battle scene, realizing that she'd selfishly left Gohan three-on-one.

When she emerged through the clearing, the short warrior stared in horror, his beady eyes flashing behind her, as though waiting for the giant to emerge unscathed.

"No," he whispered, glancing back once more at the trio still exchanging blows in the air. "Impossible."

Bulma noted that the warriors seemed to be using only hand-to-hand combat, and saw that neither Gohan nor the twins seemed to be tiring. Though she knew the young, inexperienced boy was a man down and severely outmatched.

Then, in the midst of her distraction, Bulma felt the short solider materialize at her side and swiftly kick her feet from under her.

She moaned, feeling as though she'd taken a sledgehammer to the back of her knees, and she glanced up to find the small man (whom she'd thought cute and would make nice addition to her stuffed animal collection only minutes earlier) glaring down at her.

"It's just you an me, girly."

His cackling laughter caused her to wince. She took it back; he was definitely not adorable.

The kick had caused her to drop her gun and it bounced a few yards to her right. With a sigh, she tried to bring herself to her feet, but the movement was difficult.

Biting her lip, she knew this would not end well.

The woman warrior fell to the ground, loose dirt blanketing the air as she crashed. Taking advantage of the smog and distraction, Bulma fished the other ki gun from her satchel and aimed squarely at the small warrior.

Crossing his arms, he deflected the blast and Bulma watched in horror as it pummeled through the air and collided with the domed roof of the capsule house.

Bulma's mouth went dry as the pillar of smoke polluted the sky. It was already humid and stifling, but as the heat of the fire and the realization sunk in, her face flushed.

"No."

It was one syllable, and as the small warrior brought his hands together at his side, forming a blast of his own, Bulma fingered her satchel, wondering what it stored. She hoped food, and not useless things like muffin pans, but she knew, no matter what treasures it stored, the burning fort before them was their last shelter.

The warrior released the flare of energy with a throaty scream, and Bulma squeezed the trigger of her gun, watching as the blinding lights collided and exploded halfway between them.

Giving one last, fleeting glance at Gohan, who was still exchanging blows in the air, and to the woman who remained, unmoving, on the ground, she spun on her heel and disappeared back into the dense forest.

She avoided the burly body of her previous opponent, and, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà-vu, she hurdled another branch and ran as far as her aching limbs would allow.

"I am way too pretty for this…"

She tried heading in a single direction, so it would be easier to find her way back to Gohan when this was all over. Keeping her sights directly in front of her, she formulated a plan of escape. He was small and could fly, so she wasn't sure if there was a place she could climb or hide to escape him.

Her foot caught a root, and she slammed into the ground, her face ramming the dirt the green scouter cracking into five slivers of glass. She moaned, pulling one of the shards from her cheek, rubbing the wound with her hand, wincing as a salty tear entered gash.

Cursing, she glanced down at the broken device and, with a sigh, she spun around and leveled her gun. The small soldier had not seen her fall, and, as he ran straight towards her, Bulma repeatedly fired her gun, eyes closed, until there was no longer a charge in the pistol.

Laying back down, beat with pain and exhaustion, Bulma breathed and closed her eyes. Her elbows and check were bloody, and a warrior who could knock down the Eiffel Tower barefoot had kicked her legs out from under her. She was sweaty and miserable, and felt she deserved the couple minutes of fatigued self-pity she rewarded herself.

She thought about giving up. She'd made an honorable attempt at keeping her and Gohan alive. They'd strived, made it over a month, and proven themselves to be strong and capable and independent. But dragon balls or no, Bulma did not want it to end this way. Her pride wouldn't allow her to literally roll over and die.

So with a deep, shaky breath, she brought herself to stand on her aching legs and dusted off her shorts. Head held high, she trekked back to the ruined capsule house, trying not to concentrate on the fact that her scouter was broken and her gun ruined.

She passed the tall warrior, gulping and turning away from the body, knowing it would be just another face to haunt her dreams.

Entering the clearing, Bulma frowned at the odd stillness of their field. The woman lay unmoving on the ground, and, cupping her hands over her brow, Bulma glanced up into the sky to find no sign of Gohan or the woman's twin.

The quiet bothered her and she had to shake the small ache in her chest. He would be fine, she assured herself as she disappeared back into the woods, the opposite way she'd come.

After wandering the forest for what felt like hours, Bulma sighed. Gohan was able to sense ki, he'd find her. Yes, she nodded to herself, before collapsing under a tree, supporting her sore back on the wide expanse of its trunk and resting her head back against it with a defeated sigh, it was better to stay in once place so he could track her energy.

She watched in the eerie silence as the final sun dipped its way below the blood red horizon, and she closed her eyes, knowing this signaled the near forty-eight hours of ensuing darkness.

Cursing her luck, she brought her knees to chest and rested her cheek against them, willing herself to be strong.

"Don't cry," she mumbled to herself, knowing she usually only talked to herself when she was angry or frightened.

Though, right now, she knew that things could not get any worse.

Bitter laughter escaped her lips, for as soon as she'd formed the thought, the sky erupted and showered Cerius with a thick curtain of rain. She blinked at the sky, feeling the warm water drench her skin. It was strange, alien to her, the way it didn't make her shiver, but she still brought her knees closer to her chest and closed her eyes.

As hard as she tried, sleep would not claim her. Her body begged and her mind felt the pains of its fatigue, but she was too alert, too frightened.

And then, her heart stopped.

She heard the steps approaching, splashing at the water pooling the cracked terrain. They were loud, purposeful strides and she squeezed her lids tightly together as they grew closer.

She promised she wouldn't give up, but what else was there for her to do but close her eyes, hide beneath the poor shelter of the tree, and pray to the Kais?

Bulma felt the heat of a body, wondering if she looked as disgusting as she felt, bruised and bloody and soaked through, but the footsteps had stopped completely and the figure seemed to loom over her.

She kept her eyes closed, head against her knees, refusing to look death square in the face. Her breath hitched. Yes, it was better this way. That way, in her entirely defenseless state, she could pretend this was all just a bad dream. The next time she'd open her eyes she'd be back on Chikyuu, in her warm comfy bed in the security of Capsule Corporation.

She'd brag to Yamcha and Goku and anyone who'd listen how she'd managed without them. How she'd been brave and capable, there for Gohan when no one else could be. It may be a year from this moment, but death and afterlife wouldn't feel like anything.

The looming figure knelt before her and she felt a trimmer of fear rush through her form. Sure her mind may have been at peace, but her body was scared as hell.

"Funny," the figure spoke, voice dark and grave, no hint of amusement. However, at the single word, the tension left Bulma's frame.

"I know you to be a lot of things," the voice continued, "but I'd never figured you to be a coward."

* * *

Sorry, the original format I saved this in removed all of my punctuation after I uploaded it. –facepalm- So if any of you eagerly opened this chapter before I had time to fix the mistake, I apologize. I can only imagine your horror…

Also, yay! I'm so glad I have so many people who want to enroll in my fictional university course. I love you guys, and I promise homework will be minimal and will consist only of reading fan fiction and watching DBZ.

It's been a busy couple of weeks and I know the next couple will be busier, but I won't forget about you - so pretty please don't forget about me. =)

-LL


	12. Chapter 12

"I know you to be a lot of things," the voice continued, "but I'd never figured you to be a coward."

Her eyes opened, and before she could make out the distinctive shape of the man kneeling in front of her, she flung her arms around his neck and breathed into the side of his neck.

"Oh thank Kami, Vegeta." She shook her head, feeling his drenched armor flush against her. It felt safe and warm and she'd never been so happy to see a selfish, murdering jerk in her entire life. "It's so good to see you."

"Hn." He shrugged the woman off and stared down at her, hair sticking to the sides of her face as she sniffled. She looked pathetic; he put a little more distance between them.

"Really," she beamed. "I thought I was a goner."

"You should be," he snarled. "Closing your eyes to an attacker. Idiot."

Though his voice was stern, and most of him wanted to leave her once and for all, for some reason, unbeknownst to him, he reached out and wiped away the blood pooling on her cheek.

"I broke Raditz's scouter," she explained, a rosy flush rushing to the spot his gloved fingers swept. "Think he'll be mad?"

Her questions were inane and he wasted no breath answering them.

After a few beats of silence, her blue eyes lit up. "Hey! You can sense power levels. Can you feel Gohan's energy?"

Inhaling, Vegeta closed his eyes and focused on the small boy's ki. He couldn't place it, but he could only feel so far, and even the edges of his conscious were fuzzy. He frowned. "No."

When her face fell, he sighed.

"It doesn't mean he's dead, it just means I'm not advanced enough to sense him…"

A small smile flittered across her lips at his comforting words, though they were sharp and laced with an angry tone. "He's okay. He's got to be."

At the question in his eyes, she explained.

"We were attacked by four of Frieza's men. I took two, and Gohan had the others. When I came back, the house was destroyed and one of the soldiers was dead. The other and Gohan were nowhere to be seen." She glanced down at her hands. "I wandered for a bit until it started raining. My legs hurt, and my gun's shot, so… I kind of… gave up."

He almost smirked at the blush that stained her cheeks at those words. She was far too proud to admit to him that she was weaponless and willingly submitting to surrender, especially after all she'd talked his ear off about being strong and capable.

He wasn't concerned, exactly, that she was defenseless, but he'd gone around the last few days eliminating the competition and nothing had amused him the way her shouting had. It was more than a little disturbing.

"He's just a little boy though," she frowned. "His mother's going to kill me."

"His father is a Saiyan. You should be more frightened of him."

Bulma snorted. "Not Goku. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

He was pretty sure he hated this pathetic excuse for a Saiyan already. His inability to harm insects was probably where Gohan's peaceful mentality was born. It was embarrassing, really. Not to mention a Saiyan with a name like 'Goku'. He had to suppress a shudder.

"I killed two more people," Bulma said, breaking his train of thought and blinking into her big, glassy blue eyes. She was in front of him, a curtain of rain between them and no parts of their bodies touching. He grunted and turned to sit beside her, beneath the tree.

She cocked her head towards him as he stretched out one leg, one knee remaining bent with his hands resting upon it. He closed his eyes; he could feel her watching him. There was no noise except for the distant storm until she opened her mouth to pester him.

"Do you think you can defeat Frieza?"

"I will die trying."

Bulma frowned. She hated hearing things like that from him. And she vocalized her opinion.

"Well, I really don't give a damn about what you think," he shot back, not bothering to open his eyes. She did, however, notice the way one of his dark brows twitched.

"I hope you succeed," she spoke, voice just notches above a whisper, "with_out_ dying."

He didn't know why her words struck such a chord. Perhaps it was because no one gave a flying fuck about his safety or his health? No one had ever, never, in his entire life, said 'be safe!' before he departed on a mission. And he didn't want anyone caring about his wellbeing, especially not some powerless woman with stupid hair.

Speaking of her hair, he felt it brush against his arm and opened his eyes to find the woman leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder. His entire body stiffened at the contact.

"We should get some sleep," she said through a yawn. Vegeta could only grunt, unsure of how much rest he could achieve with his muscles so rigid. It was out of the question to relax with the woman, soaked through and flimsy clothing nearly transparent, pressed against him.

He'd finally had enough of it and he shoved her off of him. When she hit the wet ground with a splash, she grumbled and rubbed her head.

"Jerk…" she growled, and then, putting her hands under her head for support. Her eyes flittered open with a curse.

"Bulma! Dammit! You really are _too _smart for your own good!" She grinned to herself. Opening up her bag, she fished out a capsule and shook it in Vegeta's face. "You better be glad you're shacking up with a genius, Vegeta."

With that, she had the audacity to wink at him.

He contemplated knocking her out, so she'd shut up for a change, but instead remained silent as she stood up and tossed the device a few feet in front of them. Vegeta watched as the rain dispersed the cloud of smoke revealing a rectangular ship of some sort. He sighed, awaiting her explanation.

"It's a Cc Copter, my dad's design. Now I know it's not the most roomy, but at least it's dry." She opened the hatch, and as it swung open, she gestured with her hand. "C'mon."

Vegeta grumbled to himself before getting off the sodden earth and entering the dry heat of the aircraft. It wasn't exactly spacious, but there were four plush seats and he sat down on the one furthest away from the on the woman.

She rolled her eyes, but didn't vocalize any complaints as she leaned back in the chair and sighed.

"G'night Vegeta," she mumbled, closing her eyes, only half waiting for the response that never came.

* * *

His nose twitched as she flicked it once more. When his eyes opened, with a glare heightened but his current state of agitation, she grinned.

"Morning sleepy head," she chimed, running an un-manicured hand through her unruly blue hair. It had dried awkwardly the night before and it was out of the question to take a hot shower. She thought Vegeta might have been a little nicer to her if she were back to her normal, beautiful self. Casting a sidelong glance into the window she grinned cheekily at her reflection.

Okay, so who was she kidding? With her hair sexily disheveled and a dangerous cut on her cheek she was the hottest thing this planet had ever seen.

Vegeta's grunt brought her out of her thoughts and she frowned.

"I'm starving, Vegeta," her voice came out as a whine and he leaned back against the headrest.

"Not exactly my problem."

"Well, you've got to be hungry, too."

He watched her lower lip slide into a pout and he averted his gaze to her pack.

"No food in there?"

She fingered the purse. "Nothing edible but senzu beans, and they're not exactly filling."

"Start a fire," he commanded, getting up and stretching the familiar ache of muscles. He'd long since familiarized himself with sleeping in chairs, on long missions he'd gone months sitting. "I will catch us something."

Bulma watched the proud man depart their makeshift shelter with a blink. He stood, spine straight, and with all the pride of the known universe packed into less than six feet of solid muscle. She rolled her eyes as he disappeared into the darkness.

Bringing herself outside, Bulma pulled out a flashlight and began to gather wood. On her search she also found some berries, which she sniffed before collecting.

When Vegeta arrived, Bulma had a fire going and was kneeling before it, face alight with the orange glow of flames, cleaning a bowl of berries.

He dropped a skinned carcass beside her and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"All yours," she mumbled, popping the fruit into her mouth. Sighing with ecstasy, she closed her eyes. The berries tasted something between ripe strawberries and bitter raspberries, two of her favorite foods from Chikyuu. When she opened her eyes to inform Vegeta of this fact, she watched him stuff a toasted limb into his mouth and decided against it.

The pair ate in silence. Bulma finishing the bowl of fruit at the same time Vegeta'd packed away the entire animal. After their meal, she rubbed her hands against her pants and frowned as she watched him remove a smear of blood from his jaw.

"Wow, you're a regular Prince Charming, Vegeta."

His eyes narrowed and his mouth pinched. She shrugged and leaned back, watching the stars. It wasn't that long ago she'd lay in front of the capsule house with Vegeta, stargazing. It felt so distant and far away. She sighed.

Opening her mouth to strike up conversation, just to break the silence, she asked him about being a prince. When no answer came, she opened her eyes to find Vegeta's face narrowed in concentration. He growled and Bulma straightened her spine.

"Vegeta?" Her voice was a choaked whisper, fear clinching her form as she studied the dark, narrowed eyes of her companion.

He turned away from her and the fire, shadowing his visage. It was eerie, but she had no time to dwell on such details as Vegeta stood up. "Encapsulate the ship and find a place to hide."

With a gulp and a stiff nod, Bulma did as she was told. Sure she was usually going on about how she was plenty capable to take care of herself, but when the situation called for it, Bulma could run with her tail between her legs. Her eyes flicked to Vegeat's tail, which was coiled tightly around his waist, and she nodded. Turning on her heel, she reduced the Cc Copter to its palm-sized capsule state and stuffed it into her bag as she took off to seek shelter behind a thick tree.

Pressing her back against the wood, she tried to steady her breathing, closing her eyes and listening for any signs of the Saiyan Prince.

Vegeta felt the power levels closing in on his position, and he rolled his shoulders back, loosening the stiff muscles. There were three of them, each respectively powerful, though nowhere near his own strength. Stretching his head and cracking his next on either side, he smirked as the three figures landed before him.

The figure on the right clicked his scouter, and relayed the reading aloud. Vegeta smirked, knowing he was holding back, and still the reading far surpassed his strength when he'd landed on Cerius.

The figure in the middle, a tall, balding man, smirked and made a show of cracking his knuckles while flashing a toothy grin.

Though bearing scouters, none of the men wore regulation armor, and Vegeta did not recognize them. It did not matter, however, he could easily pick up their fighting styles after a few minutes on the battlefield. And as for being outnumbered, Vegeta smirked, he lived for a challenge.

Taking into the air, the men on the flanks quickly followed him, and as they'd lined their leader, they followed and began attacking Vegeta from either side. He grinned as he dodged one attacker and matched the other blow for blow.

He kept up his pace, moving much faster than his opponents, materializing behind one of them and snaking his arm around his throat. With a firm grip, he yanked the man forward before tossing him back towards the ground.

Frowning, he noticed the man had more control over his consciousness than Vegeta had given him credit for, as he stopped himself inches from the ground and spun, midair, sending an energy blast in Vegeta's direction.

Moving out of range of the blast, Vegeta watched with a pant as the yellow beam collided into a boulder in the distance. He frowned, feeling Bulma's small power level, still intact, and, in that moment, the other man sent a blast that collided with his gut. It happened quickly, and Vegeta felt the burn as quickly as he'd felt his back smash into solid ground.

With a grunt, he hastily made his way back to his feet and glared at the offending alien. His murderous glare caused the man to take two shaky steps backwards and audibly gulp as the terrifying warrior let out a yell.

Bulma heard Vegeta's blood curdling shout and pressed herself closer to the tree's bark. She could feel it splintering through her clothes, but remained still as her eyelids squeezed together.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Vegeta shouted, holding back his exhaustion as he charged the warrior. Anger clogged his vision, but his senses were unparalleled. There were no distractions, simply the three men before him, one of which he charged for, ready to rip to pieces.

When the man still in the air sent a blast towards him, Vegeta responded by deflecting the blast and sending a series of rapid-fire flares, too numerous and quick to dodge. He heard the man shout as he felt his energy drain.

Vegeta smirked, ready to finish off the other two. However, as he concentrated on sending swift kicks into the warrior's chest, the other man quickly joined in the battle by pinning Vegeta's arms with his own.

Swinging back his head with a throaty laugh, the other man dusted off his hands. "No, sorry, I have no idea who you are."

He closed in on him, sending a punch to Vegeta's jaw. Vegeta kept his head steady and remained unmoving. The warrior frowned. "But I will surely enjoy taking you down a notch or two."

With that, he continued to assault the prince with a series of blows to the cheek, jaw, chest, and stomach. Too proud, Vegeta kept his eyes open and his muscles locked, ready to form an escape. Finally finding one, Vegeta elbowed his holder in the gut before releasing his Big Bang Attack.

Too tired to move, Vegeta felt the heat of his own attack absorb the remaining warriors before the burn at his back and the contusions on his own flesh caught up with him. Dropping to the ground, he lifted his head and spit towards the charred corpses before him.

"I am the Saiyan Prince Vegeta," he murmured, as proudly as his body would allow, before slipping into unconsciousness.

After a few moments of silence, Bulma exhaled the breath she'd been holding and opened her eyes. Stepping away from the tree, she looked into the dim skies, seeing no billowing smoke or blurs of feuding warriors.

She waited for a few moments, but her heart began to beat against her ribcage. Why hadn't Vegeta come to her? She was sure he'd enjoy gloating his latest conquest, and judging by the blasts she'd felt and the murderous screams she'd heard, she was sure it had been a good one. Unless it hadn't been such a good one on his end…

And so, after a few more minutes of silence, she took off running in the direction of the battle that had just taken place.

By the time Bulma reached the clearing she was panting, but her blue eyes searched the area and he legs continued to move her forward. Gasping, she saw a pair of bodies, one missing some rather vital limbs, and the other spread lifeless on its back. However, it was the final body, laying face first into the dinted ground that she bent beside.

"Vegeta," she murmured, placing her hand on his cheek and smiling when she felt his warm flesh.

Fishing through her satchel, she pulled out bean just as the prince's eyes opened and cursed her.

"Go away," he mumbled, and Bulma smiled at his resilience. Sure, he lacked the strength to hold his head up, but never the spirit to insult her.

"No Vegeta," she whispered, handing him a bean. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but he opened the other to glare at the object she offered him.

"Take this," she commanded, while stuffing the bean between his lips. She had to hold in her laughter at how ridiculous the proud warrior looked in this condition at this moment. He would never forgive her for seeing her like this.

After deciding it was useless to struggle in such a state, Vegeta opened his mouth and chewed on the stiff pod. Nearly as soon as he'd swallowed it, he felt the ache in his chest leave, his back no longer burnt, and, he blinked, sight had returned to both eyes.

Sitting up, and staring at his palms, he flexed his hands. "What did you feed me, woman?"

"A senzu bean," she said with a small smile, watching the prince, now at eye level, continue to stare at his flawless flesh.

"Another one of your inventions?"

"No," she shook her head as he made eye contact with her. "A plant from Chikyuu, actually."

When she saw his face alight with possibility, she shoved him gently with her shoulder.

"An extremely _rare _plant," she amended, looking very much like a schoolteacher threatening a pupil. "So don't go making a habit out of hurting yourself just so I'll heal you."

He merely grunted in response and Bulma sighed, her eyes drifting towards the pair of lifeless bodies before her. She knew this planet was littered with the deceased, but it was more realistic when they were put on display in front of you, and even more real when you knew, no, craved, the hands that dealt their end. Her eyes darted to Vegeta's palms.

"There's another," he smirked, "somewhere around here."

"Oh," she nodded. "Good to know." After a brief pause, she looked him over and raised her brows. "Three to one. Not bad Vegeta."

She frowned when she saw the shadow of an arrogant smirk on his features. "And just think, you almost got away without needing my help this time."

"I don't need you," he grunted, "foolish woman."

Laughing, she shrugged and stood up. Bulma dusted off her pants and watched as Vegeta got to his own feet, stretching his newly healed muscles. She saw the surprise in his eyes, and she stretched her own slightly sore muscles.

"I could use a senzu bean," she mumbled. "Sleeping in the sitting position sucks."

He ignored her and set his focus on the horizon, feeling the absence of other energies. It was only her tiny, insignificant ki that he could feel.

"Anything?"

He barely heard her her voice was so soft. Turning to face her, he shook his head.

"Good," she whispered. "Well, you know what they say," she gave him a tight smile, as if to reassure him. "The world can't end today, because it's already tomorrow in America."

She laughed at the blank look that encompassed his features. Patting his thigh, she grinned. "Right, well, I can't exactly expect you to get that reference."

He didn't bother to answer her as they continued to walk, towards something, away from something, neither was entirely sure of the direction they were heading or why or how they were getting there.

"Vegeta," she whispered. "Thank you."

He cocked a brow, not looking in her direction as they continued. Just as no one had cared about his safety, no one had offered him thanks him either. Of course, Bulma was proving herself to be unlike anyone he'd ever met.

And he did not like it. It angered him, confused him, and, quite frankly, it frightened the hell out of him.

* * *

Wow. Thank you so much for all of the reviews! I was incredibly thrilled to have so many when I returned.

I apologized last time in advance for this chapter being so delayed, but I'll do it once more: Sorry for the wait! It's been an exciting couple of weeks... Er, I took a trip down the aisle, a trip to NYC, and a short trip to Calgary. I am now, finally, packed and moved and settled in. I promise the next chapter will be up soon! Let me know what you think, what you'd like to see, ect.

Happy Saint Patty's Day friends! Enjoy and stay safe. =)

-LL


	13. Chapter 13

They had been walking for miles. She groaned, audibly, but it came as no surprise when her companion took no notice of her obvious discomfort. He didn't shift his head or stray his eyes from their target, directly towards the horizon, nor make any sound of acknowledgment. She rolled her eyes, traveling with Vegeta was shaping up to be no fun.

"Ug, Vegeta," she moaned, a little later. Though her legs had been aching and her feet were sore, it was her stomach that caused her to interrupt the silence that had settled between them. "My belly hurts!" For dramatic effect, she stopped walking and placed her hands over her abdomen.

Again, there was no reply from the stoic prince. She rolled her eyes. "It was probably those berries I ate…"

Turning her blue eyes to the frowning man keeping pace beside her, she realized that he was less frustrated with her company than with her inability to keep pace. Again, she rolled her eyes. Why couldn't he realize that she was a weak, feeble human? There would be something severely wrong with her if she were able to walk as quickly as a Saiyan, malnourished or no.

They continued to walk in silence, apart from Bulma's occasional complaint or groan. She watched as one of the suns began to peak above the horizon, breaking orange light across the rocky terrain. There were still traces of forest around them, but they were walking into a more barren terrain than before, the foliage was not as dense as it was. She shifted a little closer towards Vegeta. The absence of the walls of trees made her feel a less secure. Not that he'd do much protecting her, if push came to shove.

"Sense anything?"

She spoke confidently, but Vegeta could hear the slight quake in her voice. He'd also noticed the way she'd begun walking closer to his side, as though being inches nearer would protect her. He grunted.

"No," he answered. And, because he knew what she was really asking, he continued, "Gohan's not around here."

She sighed. She'd been worried about him. Dragon Balls or no, Gohan was still just a little boy. "Vegeta, I've been thinking."

He grunted and Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, ass face. Listen to me… I know you've just recently begun to sense ki," she took a breath, careful not to insult the temperamental Saiyan, "but Gohan is very familiar with it. Even though _we_ can't sense him unless he's close, shouldn't _he_ be able to sense _us_? And if he could, why wouldn't he be here, with us?"

Vegeta nodded. He'd been aware of this fact as well, but hadn't bothered spelling out the obvious answer to the boy's absence.

Bulma sighed when he failed to reply. She was beginning to feel like she was spending her days with a mute, and it was driving her insane.

After walking a few more kilometers in silence, Bulma stared at her nails in boredom, nose crinkling subconsciously as she studied the caked dirt. She couldn't remember the last time she'd washed her hair.

"Vegeta," she whined. "I'm tired and aching and dirty. Can we at least stop and bathe?"

He stopped walking, which at the snail's pace they'd been moving wasn't much of a feat. "Will you shut up?"

Crossing her arms, Bulma frowned. "No."

"Good gods woman. You're the most annoying creature I've ever come across. I don't know why I've tolerated you thus far."

"Yes, well," Bulma stuttered, hoping her brain, which could design hovercrafts and gravity chambers, could supply her with a comeback. Instead, she stuck out her tongue.

Vegeta just stared at her, and she sighed.

"I know you can't help my stomachache or the Gohan situation, but, please Vegeta, can I take a bath?" She tried her best at making a face worthy of his sympathies, but Vegeta merely glared at her protruding lower lip.

Dark eyes still narrowed at the pouting blue haired woman, Vegeta took off into the air. Bulma's breath caught in her throat. He must have snapped! Vegeta was going to leave her, just like that? She may have been aggravated by his presence, but she'd certainly rather be by his side than alone.

After a few moments of standing there, staring into the sky, slack-jawed, Bulma watched as the prince descended before her. She released the breath she'd been holding.

"You're in luck," he began, walking in the direction they'd been heading before her outburst. "There's a stream in the clearing up ahead."

Bulma squinted ahead, seeing no clearing, but trusting the Saiyan's super eyesight. She rushed forward to catch up, following him the remainder of the way into the clearing.

When they were closing in on the path, Bulma could hear the trickling of water and sighed into the dawn-like afternoon.

"If you bathe you are to stop being such an irritating bitch," Vegeta said, stopping before the clearing to cross his arms and glare at her.

Biting back a smile, Bulma fought the urge to salute at his words. It was hardly a question, or a request, but it was so straightforward, no-nonsense-Vegeta it made her grin.

"Yes sir," she bowed before racing into the clearing and tossing off her clothes. She dove into the crisp water and sighed as it rinsed away the thin layer of sweat and grime that had collected over her body. She shook out her hair, and leaned back, sighing as the blissful feeling of sanitation sunk in. The first thing she'd do when she was home was take a nice, long bath. Then she woud get a pedicure.

She took her time, scrubbing and lounging, half to soak in the merriment of being clean and half just to piss Vegeta off. Smiling, she wasn't sure why the idea of the angry Saiyan Prince amused her so much. It was most likely due to the lack of entertainment on Planet Cerius.

Outside of the clearing, Vegeta waited, standing with his arms crossed, a perturbed expression encompassing his features. He concentrated on the area around them, feeling as far as he could, though nothing skirted his consciousness. They were alone, and so he was forced to focus on the only ki he could: The Blasted Woman's.

He wasn't sure why, or when, for that matter, he'd let her under his skin, but her loud mouth was eclipsing any admiration he'd previously had for her. Damn it if she was attractive and confident, intelligent and surprising; he simply couldn't stomach her company. He couldn't care less if she were dead.

And yet, when she released a blood-curdling scream, he jumped to attention. As he stormed the clearing he felt no other energies present, but still, he scanned the area, ready to terminate any being that threatened her.

"Vegeta," Bulma reprimanded, and suddenly his eyes were on her.

Bulma's hands flew up to cover her lady bits, and Vegeta's eyes snapped closed, as though not looking at them would erase the image now burned into his psyche.

"What in the seven hells are you doing woman?" Vegeta growled, clinching his fists as he tried to shake the image of Bulma standing in the shallow water, ample breasts slick with moisture, beads of water dripping from her flat stomach, to the curve of her hips and her perfectly round…

He blushed.

Bulma noted this as she slipped back into her sodden clothing, a smile lingering on her lips as she tucked this nugget of information away. It would be fun to torment the prince about his discomfort the next time he'd have the upper hand.

"I was taking a bath."

His teeth ground together. "For fuck's sake, woman, what was that racket about?"

"There was a bug," she explained with a shrug, now fully clothed. Still, though, she'd crossed her arms over her breasts.

Vegeta opened his eyes, face flushed from fury rather than embarrassment. "You had that reaction because of an _insect_?"

Bulma's face pinched. "Yes. It was a creepy one."

"Blasted woman!"

"Well," she said, taking a few steps closer, leaning into what she was well aware was his personal space. "Thanks for coming to save me anyway."

"And that's the last time I attempt to save your useless ass."

Bulma smiled as she studied him, dark brows quivering in frustration. "Hm," she tapped her chin, "I believe you've said that before. Besides, my ass is not useless Vegeta." As she turned to walk the other way, leading the pair out of the clearing, she cocked her head to the side, eyes twinkling at the Saiyan, and grinned. "In fact, I've been told that I have a good future behind me."

Winking for good measure, she continued to walk, hips swaying, out of the clearing and away from the dumbfounded prince.

* * *

She had cooled off a bit and was now standing off towards the edge of the platform, staring into the distance with a mug of tea in hand. It was no longer warm, but the soothing herbs did wonders for her nerves, which were quite pinched as she listened to the men around her discussing the situation of her son, who was light years away.

"It just doesn't make sense," Krillin repeated once more, as though he were trying to get someone to contradict him.

No contradiction came. The truth was, it did not make sense to anyone gathered at the Lookout. After Bulma and Gohan's latest battle, the pair had separated. Bulma was currently isolated with an incredibly powerful ki, while Gohan was in the company of two strong warriors. However, neither seemed injured.

"No Krillin," Yamcha replied, taking a seat away from the group and a temporary break from sensing his ex-girlfriend's power level. True, she didn't seemed harmed, but he was getting bad vibes from her current situation. "Goku, couldn't we just use the Dragon Balls to wish them back to Chikyuu?"

The tall Saiyan scratched his ear and shot a nervous glance in his wife's direction. "And suffer Bulma's wrath for bringing her home early?"

"Well, it's better than explaining to her after she's been wished back how we let her die without doing anything about it." Yamcha crossed his arms, waiting for his friend's reaction. He knew her better than anyone here, and she would be pissed either way. At least in his plan she didn't have to die.

Goku, however, turned to Krillin for help. The bald man merely shrugged.

"Idiots," Piccolo interrupted the group of warriors, "you are the worst group of decision makers I have ever been in the company of."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Tien asked the green fighter, still not entirely trusting his presence.

"Let's put it to a vote," Piccolo suggested. "I vote we bring them back."

"I agree," Yamcha chimed in. He cast a fleeting glance to the tall warrior and smiled. "For once, I'm on Piccolo's side."

Goku looked from his friends to the blue void of endless sky, feeling his son's increasingly strengthening energy. He felt a breeze ruffle his orange gi and inhaled. "I say we see what Gohan can do."

"Yeah!" Tien nodded, "I'm with Goku. I'm interested seeing what the little guy's capable of." He grinned down at his friend. "What do you say, Chiaotzu?"

"I'm with you Tien!"

"Good," he smiled, before glancing back up at the remainder of the warriors.

Krillin remained, twiddling his thumbs nervously. If it were him, he'd want to be home, safe, but this was Goku's kid they were talking about… And, yet, still, he decided to go with his head. "Sorry Goku buddy, but I vote we wish them home."

"So then it's a tie," Tien mumbled, glaring at the Namekian. "Seems your way brought us no closer to a decision than ours."

"Wait," Chichi spoke, turning to face the men. One of her hands dropped to her side as the tepid tea swirled in the cup. "Don't I get a vote?"

She'd been thinking about what she would do in such a situation, and it should have been an obvious solution. Turning to Goku, she watched as his dark eyes filled with realization. She loved her son more than anything in the world, obsessively so. Yet she'd only been a good mother; she'd tried to guard him from a life of risking his life for the sake of the planet, to keep him from repeating the same patterns of his father. All she had wanted was a normal life. Of course, finding out your husband was an alien pretty much tossed that option out of the window.

Turning to sky, she closed her eyes and felt the pair of familiar energies on the distant planet. For Gohan, it was an easy decision: her baby should be home, with her. She already knew he was strong, no need to risk his life proving it. However, she knew what this meant to her husband, and she could only imagine what it meant for Bulma.

With a sigh, she concentrated on Bulma's energy, and for the first time she felt connected to the woman she'd never been particularly close to. They had a lot in common, as the only two women from Chikyuu so invested in this crazy world. Also, they had once been major players, and now they were expected to take a backseat. Chichi had heard of Bulma's willingness to protect her son, and she'd also heard how she'd wanted to prove something to the boys.

Taking a sip from her mug, she turned to the warriors awaiting her decision. "I vote we let them stay."

Her voice was calm, sure, and she almost smiled at the surprise in Goku's eyes, the way his jaw unhinged and mouth fell open. This was for her son, and for Bulma, she convinced herself with a nod.

"Wow Chi," Tien laughed. "Gohan's going to be really grateful."

"We'll see about that," she said, crossing her arms and throwing her best protective mother pose. "When he gets back he'll have absolutely zero free time with all the catching up we have."

"Geez, Goku," Krillin laughed, about to make a joke about his wife. However, Goku interrupted him by rushing forward and slinging his arms around her.

"Thanks Chichi."

"I didn't do it for you," she amended as they pulled away, though a small smile still lingered on her lips.

* * *

She ran a hand through her damp hair, trying to dry the tangled tresses. With a slight hum, she cocked her head to the side and grinned at the slanted glare Vegeta was casting her.

He was too serious, she thought, though not for the first time since they'd become acquainted.

The pair had stopped for lunch. Bulma decided on a MRE from her satchel rather than risk her health on another batch of wild berries, and there was no way she was going to eat the disgusting creature Vegeta'd slaughtered and brought back to their campsite. The only bit that was cooked had been charred by his ki to kill it, and the heiress couldn't comprehend the idea of feasting on raw, wild alien meat.

"So, Vegeta," Bulma smiled as she continued to finger her damp hair. It was one of her better features, and she noticed the way Vegeta had stared at it on more than once occasion. "What do you do to unwind?"

He stopped chewing for a moment to glare at the Chikyuu woman. Lifting a brow in question, he scuffed at her question before resuming his meal.

"You know," she cocked her head to the side. "What does a guy like you do for fun?"

"Fun?" He frowned. "I am of a warrior race. I do not have time for petty things like 'fun'."

"Vegeta, I'm trying to _flirt _with you, you bit oaf," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Could you lay off the big-tough-Saiyan act for two seconds and indulge me?"

He wanted to strangle the forward woman sitting across from him, but he wanted to finish his lunch more. Choosing to ignore her, however, was an issue. As soon as he was done with the meat, he wiped his mouth on his glove and stood up. Bulma followed suit, pleased with his manners. When Goku had finished a meal that size, there was always a mess to clean up. Being a prince seemed to have its advantages.

"Vegeta," she began, pinching her plump, lower lip between her teeth, "I'm an attractive woman, you know."

It was satisfying, she thought, the way his body stiffened at those words. She had to fight the urge not to drop her seductress act and grin.

"You don't have to tell me," she continued, taking a few steps closer towards the Saiyan warrior. She took advantage of his temporarily frozen state to invaded his personal space. Now standing before him, their chests inches apart, she cocked her head to the side. "It's been a long time since you've been with a woman, hm? At least two months, since you've been on Cerius."

She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and, feeling empowered by her newfound cleanliness and Vegeta's less-than-confidant demeanor, she traced her finger along his chest plate. "And you're a _very _attractive man."

A deep crimson sprayed across his cheeks and nose. Bulma bit her lip once more, half hoping he'd lean down and take it between his own teeth. It was strange to her; who would have thought one of the most confident, deadliest warriors in the universe would have been such a prude?

She'd spoken too soon, however, when Vegeta's hands were at her waist. They seemed searing hot against her flesh, despite the fact that she was fully clothed and his gloves were quite thick. Her breath caught in her throat, and she was suddenly unsure if she were playing with him anymore. Sure what she'd said had been the truth, but she'd only been teasing him, punishing him for his earlier actions. However, with his mouth just inches from her own and his solid body nearly flush against hers, she realized how badly she wanted to fuck him. It may have been a slightly slutty thought, considering she didn't like him, at all, but slutty thoughts be damned – it had been _months, _and she was more than a little horny.

Besides, she'd been ignoring her naughtier dreams for Gohan's sake, and Gohan was nowhere around. Though she was absolutely convinced that he was alright and they would be reunited soon. Which meant that they only had so much time to do _this._

Leaning forward, Bulma pressed her lips against his. At the contact, Vegeta's eyes widened, his own lips still pressed firmly into one another. When Bulma pulled away her eyes remained shut, too mortified to open. It seemed like an eternity she stood there, eyes closed as Vegeta's frame remained unyielding. She was just about to open her mouth to exscuse herself when Vegeta responded by grabbing the back of her neck and crushing her lips into his own.

It was rough, but it felt perfect, carnal. He removed his mouth, and her head tilted of its own accord, as if offering herself to him. His lips and teeth then swathed her neck, jaw, before returning once again to her enticing lips.

Trying to get a better hold on him, Bulma grabbed for his shoulders. His tongue flicked across her lower lip, as if asking for permission. She was taken aback by this, for Vegeta never asked for permission. "Kami, Vegeta," she moaned, and as she parted her lips, awaiting another kiss.

She blinked, catching her breath, and opened her eyes to study the man who was also steadying his breathing.

Vegeta frowned. No one had ever called his name before, not in pleasure. His passed fucks hadn't known him personally, and the only time anyone called him it was either in fear or in anger. Both emotions he was very familiar with, and both entirely different from this. This was strange, personal. Too personal.

Removing his hands from the back of her head, he snarled. Blinking, Bulma watched as he took a step away from her. Not sure what to do with herself, she crossed her arms and watch the heated glare alight the prince's face.

"Don't fuck with me ever again," he growled, clinching and unclenching his gloved fists. "Vulgar woman."

And with that, he turned on his heel and continued in the direction they'd been walking before lunch. As though nothing had transpired. Bulma wrung her hands together and watched the prince's retreating frame. With a curse, she rolled her eyes and followed after him.

* * *

This chapter was completed days ago. Promise! For some reason I kept getting an error message and FF wouldn't let me upload it. Sorry for the delay - Chapter 14 will be posted soon!

Cheers!

-LL


	14. Chapter 14

The water was cool, and it soothed his overworked muscles as he sunk further into the stream. Releasing a long sigh, he shook out his dark hair, which was growing quite long and unruly for a boy his age from Chikyuu. Of course, he reminded himself, he wasn't just a boy from Chikyuu. He was of a warrior race, and if his blood weren't half human he'd have no issues with untamed hair, as it would stay put like his father's and Vegeta's hair seemed to.

He wondered if it were a genetic trait Saiyans developed after spending months and months away, training and fighting and traveling. There was no time for manly men to get haircuts and so they adapted. Gohan had to laugh at the thought of, if his theory were correct, how his uncle Raditz's must have looked as a child.

"What're you laughing at, Gohan?" The small, shy voice of his companion posed.

Gohan turned to the grin-skinned boy and smiled. "Nothing much. I was just reminded of someone."

"Oh," the boy smiled the genial, pure smile of his and nodded, "okay."

Gohan was grateful for the companionship of the small Namekian boy. He was even more pleased that the green-skinned alien favored Kami more so than Piccolo. When Gohan had been found, bloodied and shattered in an open field, he was sure he was a goner. He'd tried moving his small limbs, to get to his feet or hoist himself up with his arms, but they were broken and so he'd taken to closing his eyes and trying to sense Bulma's ki. He hoped she was okay, but his head ached too much for thought, so instead he was lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was probably hours before he'd been discovered, and when he'd opened his eyes he thought he was staring into the eyes of Piccolo.

The man introduced himself, in a deep, gravelly voice, as Nail. He then said something else, which Gohan was unable to decipher through the haze of his pounding headache. Then a small boy smiled at him, gentleness in his eyes that caused Gohan to relax. Placing his hands on him, the boy healed Gohan's major injuries and, when Gohan was able to sit up, offered him some water.

Gohan had sipped the water and told the pair about Bulma, who he was still unable to sense through his throbbing head. He could feel the surge of various power levels around them, but hers was so tiny it was difficult to place. He then told them about the pair of warriors he'd taken down, and how he'd used up nearly all of his energy in fighting the final opponent.

Dende, the small boy who had healed him, informed him that they had been doing a good job of laying low. He then smiled, once more, and told Gohan in his small, honest voice how they'd found him and sensed his pure heart.

Gohan and Dende splashed around in the cool water. The half-Saiyan was grateful for the friendship, and though Nail had given him the cold shoulder ever since he'd inquired how it was possible that two males from Namek were here, Dende had been nothing but affable to young Saiyan.

"We're not males, per se," Dende explained. "Namekians are different than other races. We are sexless, and Freiza was unsure of how to deal with us in his little game.

"He's been upset with us for sometime, and forced us to enter. He thinks we're hiding something." Gohan noted the way Dende paused, but made no move to question his new friend. "Nail volunteered to fight, but no one else stepped up so we had to go into a raffle. We're not fighters by nature, but Nail is strong. We thought he would do well." The boy stopped and stared down at his tiny palms. "Lord Guru was originally called when one of Freiza's soldiers demanded a raffle, but I volunteered to take his place. I'm not a good fighter, but I can heal Nail, if I need to."

Gohan smiled; it reminded him of Bulma's bravery. He was glad that he'd found the Namekians, or, rather, that they had been the ones to find him. They were, by far, the nicest set of warrior he'd run into since being on Cerius. He hoped that when they found Bulma she'd be more inclined to ally herself with them instead of Vegeta. They were much more pleasant, even after he'd apparently insulted Nail.

"How is your head, Gohan?"

He rubbed his temple, and grinned. "Definitely better, thanks to you."

"I think after our swim we should go look for your friend." He paddled around the water and stared off into the distance, where the other Namekian was meditating. "Nail is antsy to move on, and if your head is feeling better then perhaps you'll be able to sense her."

"Good plan," Gohan nodded, once again concentrating in hopes of sensing Bulma's small energy. She was alive, he could feel it, he just wasn't sure how far she'd gotten. He hoped she'd faired better than he and wasn't injured. However, she was in possession of the Senzu beans, and she was smart. Bulma would okay.

"This is fun," Dende said after a silence settled between the pair of young boys. "Apart from all of the danger, of course."

Gohan laughed, but he couldn't argue. He was actually starting to enjoy himself here.

* * *

Her arms were crossed, and as he stared at her profile from the corner of his eye, he noted the way her nose was turned up.

They had been walking for miles, but the woman refused to be carried and there was no way in hell he was going to lower himself to ride inside of one her contraptions. He knew that her machines could only travel so fast, and they were probably making better time walking. Not to mention if someone spotted one of her ridiculously bulky flying devices they risked being shot down, and there was no way such a weak woman would survive the blast. Not that the latter had any influence in his decision making.

However, he continued to watch her, unaware why her haughty snarl and narrowed brows infuriated him so. She was angry, that much was apparent. Angry with him, he guessed, for refusing her advances. Not that he hadn't wanted them exactly; no, a small, nagging part of him wanted to give into the vulgar woman's words. _Yes_, it had been a long time. And, yes, she was not the least fortunate looking being he'd come across. Quite possibly, in fact, the most attractive partner he'd ever had accompany him on a mission. He'd wanted to, the first time her lips had crashed into his, back her into the nearest and have his way with her. He also wanted to hold onto his sanity, and so he'd turned her down.

The truth was, he knew her fairly well, and he'd seen the confident smirk that grazed her lips when he'd caught her, slick with moisture and naked in the stream. She wanted the upper hand, and that was something Vegeta would never afford her.

They kept walking, the only sounds that interrupted the silence were the smashing of dried foliage below their feet and the occasional snap of a twig. He closed his eyes, smirking. He couldn't hear it, but he could _feel_ the woman seething beside him. She was probably trying to punish him by not talking. His smirk widened at that thought; the only time she'd opened her mouth the entire day was to bitch. The silence, though awkward, was welcomed.

It was strange how well he knew her. He could interpret her anger, just as he understood her earlier actions when she had so boldly tried to lure him into having sex with her. She had confessed to it being a matter of hormones, of which he could relate, but it was despicable the way the ballsy little female had attempted to play seductress. And how she'd almost succeeded. Though she'd moaned his name, so casually, as though she'd wanted him to return the sentiment. He grunted. As if he would ever lower himself to being tempted by such a physically inferior woman. It was deplorable.

He watched her as her eyes flashed and cheeks flushed, and he read the heated emotions as they flickered across her face. When he chuckled, however, she stopped walking, crossed her arms and shot him a pointed glare.

If looks could kill, Vegeta was quite sure Bulma would have possessed all the power of the ever-elusive Super Saiyan.

"What?" She snapped, hugging her crossed arms closer to her chest. "What is so _funny _Vegeta?"

Rolling his eyes, the Saiyan simply frowned, and continued walking.

"Not so fast, mister. You just lost the quiet game and now you are going to listen to what I have to say." She paused, got a hold of her scattered thoughts, all of the angry, conceited, vengeful judgments that had been flittering through her head, hoping she could recount each one of them to throw back in Vegeta's face. "I wasn't _fucking _with you, you stupid jerk. In fact, I believe I was trying to _fuck _you. Now, I know you aren't the kind of man who falls prey to women, even a woman, such as myself, with such exceptional charms, but I offer you an afternoon of no-strings-attached sex and you think I'm _messing_ with you?

"I understand you've had a hard life, Vegeta, believe me, but not everyone is out to get you. So stop being so paranoid, especially when it comes to me."

His back was to her, so he was a little surprised when he heard her grunt as she brushed passed him, continuing on their trek as though her little outburst hadn't just occurred. She was the most frustrating woman, no, person he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. He was looking forward to the day someone on this lousy planet finally got around to offing her.

Though, there was still that nagging voice, somewhere deep inside his core, which hoped he'd have the opportunity to take her up on her offer before that day inevitably came.

* * *

Gohan took into the air, keeping pace beside the pair of Namekians. He was sure he'd felt Bulma's energy to the west, and so the trio had taken off in that direction. The young Saiyan smiled as he felt the familiar energy and honed in on another, much more powerful, though equally familiar ki alongside her.

"Alright!" He said, turning his head to face Dende, his small fists outstretched as the wind that whipped around his hair took with it some of his voice. "Vegeta's with her!"

"Vegeta?" Dende asked, the small quake in his voice doubting if that was such a good thing, despite the tone of Gohan's words. He'd heard of Vegeta before, and wasn't anyone on this planet a destined enemy?

"Yeah," Gohan explained, "he's been helping us. He's a Saiyan, like me."

"Oh," Dende nodded, focusing on the strong energy ahead. It was unlike anything he'd felt before, far more powerful than the scouts Frieza had sent to Namek. "Well, I guess it's a good thing he's on our side then."

* * *

In order to avoid looking or thinking about Vegeta, Bulma glanced up at the sky and studied the clouds overhead. It was only so-so, as far as distractions went, but she wanted anything but to remember Embarrassing Display Two of the day. The first was still burnt in her mind and there was no way she was going to open her mouth and break the silence first…

That is until her foot caught a root and her face planted into the ground.

The grunt she released was what broke her code of silence, and the curse she muttered was just to let Cerius know where she thought it should go.

Sitting up, and avoiding making eye contact with Vegeta, who had stopped walking and was staring down at her with an indecipherable expression, Bulma rubbed her aching cheek. She was pretty sure that the thump hadn't done any damage, but it still smarted.

"Oh man," she moaned, remaining seated on the ground. "What was I thinking? Being here is _so_ not worth shoving in Yamcha's face…"

With that, she started laughing. Vegeta raised a brow as he watched her, face smudged with dirt from the crash, legs slightly bent at the knee as they stretched out in front of her as she laughed. She'd finally snapped…

And then, he felt three power levels approaching, so distant that he had to really concentrate to distinguish them.

"Shut up, woman," he commanded. Closing his eyes, he felt the energies drawing nearer, closing in on their current position.

Sensing his seriousness, Bulma closed her mouth and blinked. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft. It was strange, she thought, how she could be so furious with him, but when the situation called to be sober she was nothing but loyal and levelheaded.

"Yes," he answered, eyes snapping open. "It's Gohan."

* * *

He watched her, lips drawn, as she rubbed the sleeping boy's head. It was rhythmic and motherly and disgusting. The boy had been spending all of his time, unscathed, with a pair of Namekians; there was no use for coddling. Speaking of the Namekians, he craned his neck and watched as the pair sat, on the opposite side of the cave, deep in meditation. He snorted; he was not going to be able to get a wink of sleep tonight.

Back pressed firmly against the cave, he turned his attention once more to the woman and child. It was a far less repulsive sight.

"I'm so glad he's okay," Bulma murmured, a smile adorning her lips. "I was so worried."

There were far too many people in the cave, Vegeta decided. Four too many, actually. He was unsure of how he'd fallen from solo spy, out to kill Kui, take down another few nameless imbeciles, and live to fight Frieza one-on-one to sleeping in a damp cave with a half-Saiyan brat, a weak human female, and a pair of green-skinned peacemakers.

Not to mention they were all four spurting words like 'love' when they got together. He grunted.

It wasn't that Vegeta didn't believe in love, he just didn't particularly like the idea of it. He'd purged planets where beings had offered themselves in place of others all for the idea of 'love'. There was no doubting its universal existence. However, it seemed inconvenient to care about another person that much. Even his closest companions, who he respected more than anything, would be sacrificed or left behind if it meant they were to put him in danger or hold him back from his goals. Vegeta would never be the type of guy to sacrifice himself for the good of everyone. True, he was fiercely loyal to his people, and if his planet were still around, and he were to find a suitable woman, he would be committed to her. He just didn't have the time or energy for that, and certainly not in the midst of the most decisive battle in his history.

So he watched the woman lean her head back against the cave wall and smile at him.

"I'm sorry I flipped out earlier, Vegeta," she said, smile never faltering. "You're a good friend. I'm lucky to have you on my side."

Unsure of how to answer her, Vegeta tilted his head back and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Bulma was sleeping.

* * *

The following morning, Bulma watched Gohan and Dende spar on the ground beneath the shade of a tree. She laughed when Dende tripped and fell, and Gohan let down his guard to fall into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Bulma leaned back against the tree and smiled as she continued to watch the boys, as their spar had morphed into a friendly game of tag.

Vegeta, on the other hand, sat opposite the grinning woman and playing children. He snarled at the waste of Gohan's talent. They should be beating one another up in order to practice and improve their strength. Gohan had purposefully kept Dende's healing abilities secret; there was no telling what a man like Vegeta would do with knowledge like that. The boy had to suppress a shudder at the thought.

So the afternoon went, and Bulma wished she had her mini-fridge capsule packed full with soda. This was a perfect, sunny afternoon to waste the day away. It was a vast improvement to walking, fighting with Vegeta, and getting the crap kicked out of her, all of which had accounted for ninety percent of the previous three days. Gohan was alive and well, and he was laughing and being a kid again. She smiled at the thought.

Her smile faltered, however, when Vegeat jumped to his feet. She watched as he stood, spine straight and fists compressed, the skin over his knuckles turning white from the pressure. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes widened in disbelief. And then, just like that, the innocent fun had been sucked out of their perfect day.

Gohan and Dende had stopped laughing. The half-Saiyan was staring off into the distance, face blanching. "Wha-" he stuttered, "what _is_ that?"

"Gohan," Vegeta commanded, as Nail appeared before them, "tell me what you sense. I can only feel two."

"Two of what?" Bulma asked, watching the faces of the four warriors exchange tight glances. "I can't sense _anything _guys, please, bring me up to speed."

"Five," Gohan answered. "And they're all strong. There are two coming towards us, and the other three are in the opposite direction. They're… they're… Everyone else I can sense is dying."

Vegeat cursed and dropped his hands to his side. He thought Kui and a few others were all Frieza would send.

"The Ginyu Force," he explained, stretching out his muscles in preparation of a fight. He hadn't been able to sense power levels the last time he was around them, but the nagging sense of familiarity was there. Gohan's confirmation that there were five in total was evidence enough. "They're Frieza's elite mercenary platoon. They're also a bunch of idiots."

"Strong idiots, though," Nail spoke, starting to prep his own body for the inevitable battle that was to come. The pair of power levels heading their way were strong, both nearly matched Vegeta. He realized that if they were to win this, he would have to give it his all.

"I don't have a weapon," Bulma panicked, watching what she could only decipher as poorly concealed fear sweep Vegeta's features. The words 'I'm useless' hung from her lips, but she refused to speak them.

"Bulma," Gohan shot her a look of confidence, reminding her, not for the first time, of his father. "Take Dende and get to a safe place. You still have the Senzu beans?"

She nodded.

"Good. We may need them, so don't go too far."

"Gohan…" she spoke, watching the boy as he stretched his small limbs, cords of muscles bunching beneath his tanned skin. "You're going to fight?"

He nodded, and she didn't argue. With one, last fleeting glance at Vegeta, she wished the trio luck. "Be safe," she added, her blue eyes never leaving Vegeta's. He grunted as Nail thanked her for taking care of Dende. Bulma took the small Namekian's hand in her own, and the pair took off towards safety.

"Can you sense them?" Bulma asked, breathlessly.

Dende nodded as they slowed their pace, now several kilometers from the others. "Yes. Still no fight."

"It's two against three though," Bulma smiled, "an easy victory, yeah?"

"I hope so," Dende said, his face distant as he felt the pair of powerful kis closing in on their friends.

A few kilometers away, Vegeta watched as a pair of armored figures descended from the sky to land before them. He felt the energy of the Namekian spike, but Gohan remained calm as the studied the pair. One was burly and blue, with scaly skin and pink eyes. The other was significantly shorter; standing beside one another he did not reach the other's shoulders.

He stopped forward and smirked at the odd trio, and locked his eyes on Vegeta. "So, Vegeta," he began, tapping his scouter, white hair billowing around his shoulders. "Glad to see you're still alive and well." He laughed. "Guldo was really hoping you hadn't made it."

"Jeice," the Saiayn hissed, never in the mood for small talk and certainly not now, "care to let me in on what the Ginyu Force is doing here?"

The humanoid laughed, his voice thick with accent. "You didn't really think Frieza would be coming in person, did 'ya?"

Burter, the larger squad member, smirked as the pair shared a personal joke. "We're here to clean up his mess. Apparently things were taking too long here."

Gohan heard Vegeta growl and then, without giving anyone direction, he watched as the Saiyan Prince charged towards the small, red-skinned alien.

Jeice look taken aback, unaware that Vegeta was his enemy. "Woa, Vegeta. We're not here to take you out," he tried to reason between blocking the angry Saiyan's blows. "Just help us take out the Namek and the little guy. You can ride back to base with us."

"You should not be here," Vegeta growled, sending a swift kick to his opponent's stomach, which caused him to hack up blood. Wiping his mouth, Jeice surveyed through his scouter that Vegeta's power level had increased immensely. With a fleeting glance at his fellow platoon member, he turned his attention away from the Saiyan and paid for it by energy blast to the chest.

It was very frustrating, Jeice thought, dusting off his chest plate, how whenever he'd seemed to get a new set of armor he'd always go and get it chipped.

Gohan watched the exchange, and turned to Nail with a nod. The pair took into the air in the same direction, hoping to lure Burter into a two-on-one fight. Gohan was never too prideful to share a victory, and he was more than pleased that the Namekian didn't seem to posses Vegeta's opinion on the matter, either.

"Oh, I see how it is," Burter laughed, taking into the air behind the duo, "you think you can outrun the great Blue Hurricane? The fastest warrior in the universe, next to Frieza himself!"

Gohan glanced behind him, watching the grinning 'Blue Hurricane' closing in on their position, and materialized behind him. He was unsure of how fast this guy really was when he'd so easily outmaneuvered him. With both fists, he volleyed the back of the large warrior's neck, and send him crashing downward. When Burter stopped himself, inches from the ground, Nail descended upon him.

"They're fighting," Dende explained, and Bulma was grateful for the non-graphic play-by-play. "All three of them. I think Vegeta's facing one and Gohan and Nail have teamed up."

Bulma nodded, staring off into the direction of the fight. She squinted her eyes and tried to tap into some remote force in her brain, but she was unable to 'sense' anything. Opening her eyes, she sighed. Her brains would just have to be put to better use.

Gohan was distracted by a blinding wave of light and turned to watch as a powerful energy blast soared towards the Saiyan Prince and knocked him back a few yards. He glanced from Nail to Burter, and then back to Vegeta, who was standing on his shaking limbs and clutching one of his arms to his side. Gohan frowned, but, before jumping to assist the prince, Vegeta raised his good hand and leveled the battlefield around them. Gohan was suddenly glad Dende and Bulma were at a safe distance, because the perimeter surrounding Vegeta was now void of any life. Thee trees were reduced to burnt stumps and there was no trace of Jeice in the large crater. Gohan was still awed by the power Vegeta possessed.

Burter, however, lacked the ability to sense ki and continued exchanging blows with Nail, who seemed fueled by Vegeta's victory. Gohan watched as Vegeta slid to his knees and, with a sigh, turned back to face the tall warrior squaring away with the equally intimidating Namek.

Nail shouted his name and Gohan nodded in understanding. Switching positions, the young Saiyan flanked the pair and blasted his opponent, while Nail quickly flashed to the other side of the warrior and, as Burter dodged Gohan's blast, hit him square with a wave of energy.

Vegeta was wiped. He felt the energy of Burter drain, but he was unable to savor the deaths of two members of the annoying five-man squadron. Instead, he was too busy berating himself for his narrow victory. Briefly, he felt bitter hopelessness swell inside his core. How was he supposed to defeat Frieza when he was barely able to stand after fighting Jeice? He felt the impossibility of the situation weigh on him as he teetered between consciousnesses. Blinking, he watched as Gohan and Nail stood above him, questioning his injuries.

He grunted, watching as their eyes filled with optimism. They were counting on him, he realized, to be the one able to defeat Frieza. He didn't have time to contemplate what that meant, what his likely demise at the hands of the tyrant lord would mean to these weak, pathetic excuses for warriors that seemed to flock to him, because the woman was running in their direction, little green Namekian on her heels. And she was shouting his name.

Closing his eyes, Vegeta fought to stay alert, just a little longer until the woman's face came into view. She pushed Gohan and Nail aside and knelt beside him, eyes swimming. He'd never seen her look so distraught before.

"Vegeta," she spoke, a small, sad smile inching its way across her lips. "You can forget about me wasting another one of these on you, okay?"

He had enough energy left in him to glare at her, but the gentleness of her voice caused him to simply stare into her eyes. Fishing through her bag, she retrieved a Senzu bean and placed it between his lips. As he chewed, he watched a single tear slip from the corner of her eye, and trace the smooth curve of her cheek. He watched the moisture drop onto his chest plate before disappearing into the fabric of his armor, and he felt himself regaining control of his limbs. Still, he made no move to get up. He couldn't comprehend why the woman was crying. He had even less of an idea why, when she rested her head on his chest, he didn't push her away.

* * *

Have I mentioned that fight scenes are the bane of my existence? Thanks everyone for bearing with me though yet another battle.

Also, a GIGANTIC thank you to catgirl26. Without her, I don't think I would have ever had the inspiration to post this chapter. If you have not done so already, check out her story "Vengeance". It is seriously epic.

-LL


	15. Chapter 15

"May I have a word with you?"

The words caught her off guard and she jumped, causing her to brush her finger against the hot surface of the ki rifle's ejector. Wincing, she brought the burnt flesh to her mouth and glanced up at the man who'd startled her.

"Uh, sure Nail," she said, setting the gun to her side, eyes locked on the Namekian who shared such a resemblance with Piccolo she had to suppress a shudder. "But, I've got to say, in the future, be less creepy when you're approaching a woman tampering with volatile weapons."

She glanced down at her broken gun. It was difficult to repair without her lab, but she was making progress. Bulma smiled, she was a genius, after all.

"Yes, sorry about that," Nail cleared his throat. He was standing in front of her, back straight and shoulders back, with his chin jutting forward. Bulma cocked her head to the side, wondering if she should be bracing herself for something. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" As she spoke, one of her brows arched in question.

"Yes," he nodded, "for taking care of Dende yesterday. I watched the power Vegeat and the other soldiers of Frieza have; I am no match. Vegeta destroyed everything within a fifty-yard radius. If Dende had been in the vicinity, he would not have survived."

"Oh, yeah," she fumbled awkwardly at the gratitude in the Namekian's voice. "My pleasure."

"Yes, well," he nodded once more, "that is all."

Bulma watched as he turned from her and disappeared into the dense forest. With a shrug, she returned to her work, though it was becoming obvious that even she might not be able to salvage this one.

It was strange, she thought, hands idly tinkering with the flat-head screwdriver, that Nail felt he owed her an apology. She assumed he had a better understanding of the definition of 'ally' than Vegeta, but the Saiyan had never thanked her for her assistance. Though, her assistance didn't need thanking in either case. They were helping one another out, and besides, she'd only taken Dende to a safe place to save her own hide.

"Woman," a gruff voice spoke, causing her to once again joggle during the midst of her work. With a sigh, she dropped the gun to the side of the rock she was using as a workbench and frowned at Vegeta.

"Doesn't anyone around here know how to make a proper entrance?"

Vegeta wasn't sure what she was babbling about, but she often went off on tangents concerning things he had no understanding of and thought nothing of it.

"There are too many distractions around here," he continued, watching as her blue eyes darkened at his words. "I am going to find some peace and quiet, and train."

Any anger Bulma felt at his statement was undercut as his words sunk in. Cocking her head to the side, a Cheshire cat grin on her lips, Bulma nodded. "Don't wait up?"

He glared at her. "What?"

"Is that your way of saying you're going out, so don't wait up?"

His features twisted into a glare. "No. I didn't want you pathetic weaklings to give up the moment you realized I was gone. I may actually need Gohan's assistance fighting the remainder of the Ginyu Force."

"Oh," Bulma nodded, features alight with amusement. "Okay. Thanks for the heads up, bud."

"No, I…" The Saiyan Prince stumbled at his words, before grunting and turning away from her. So much for letting the woman in on his plans, trust her to be an idiot…

"Hey, Vegeta," she called, getting to her feet. When he turned, he saw that she was once again sober; the mocking glint in her eyes was replaced with understanding. "You're leaving." She paused, watching the way the breeze sent a few locks of his gravity-defying hair askew. It was beautiful, she thought, as his powerfully set jaw shifted and eyes narrowed. She'd had many complimentary thoughts on Vegeta's appearance over the last few weeks, but never once had she thought of him as beautiful. However, she could see that he was. Not merely sexy or 'rip-off-my-panties' hot, but something more. "You've left before. But you're coming back this time, I get it."

A vein in his forehead bulged, and he fought the urge to blast the woman for putting words in his mouth.

Smiling, Bulma lifted her hand in a small wave. "I trust you."

With a mumbled 'hmph', Vegeta turned on his heel and shot into the sky. Bulma watched him go, index finger pressed firmly against her lips as he evaporated into an indecipherable dot in the distance.

* * *

"So you don't get hungry?"

Dende laughed, and shook his head. "Nope."

"_Never_?"

"No Gohan, I don't." The Namekian leaned back into the grass, glancing up as the sun in his peripheral began to set.

"I can't imagine never being hungry," Gohan chuckled, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning back on his arms. "I think I'm hungry all the time. Except for when I just finish eating, but that doesn't last too long."

Dende let out another laugh as he watched the sun sink beneath the horizon, washing the treetops with a red-orange glow. It looked as though the serene forest was ready to burst into fire, and Namekian watched as the beams splayed out, engulfing the blue sky.

It was strange, he thought, how different things were here. The sky was blue, and the grass surrounding him was green. The trees loomed high above his head and were tangled with leaves and branches, instead of clean, puffy spheres of cobalt.

Also, here was where he was supposed to be a serious adult, but instead he'd spent more time lounging with Gohan and being a kid than when he'd dutifully trained for his position as a future elder on Namek.

"Hey, Gohan," he said, glancing at the half-Saiyan. "I don't want you to be untruthful, but Nail said I could only come out with you today if we trained together."

"Yeah," Gohan grinned. "And you can lie for me, too, because I told Vegeta we were going to train as well."

"Okay." Dende nodded, seeing that the half-Saiyan was in much more difficult position than he. "Vegeta is much scarier than Nail."

Gohan laughed. "Yeah, he's terrifying. I can't imagine what this Frieza guy is like."

"It's good, though," Dende thought, watching one of the suns drop below the tree line and out of his sight, "that he's found Bulma."

"What do you mean?" Gohan asked, glancing at his friend, face warped in confusion.

"Well, I only mean that they are good for one another," Dende explained.

"Oh, no," Gohan scratched his head, "they're not in love or anything. I mean, they are civil, sometimes, and they played cards once, but… They're not, like, a couple."

"I can feel good and evil, and can sense bonds between beings." Dende shrugged. "Even if they don't know it, they compliment one another and have become comfortable, dependent. Being in love doesn't mean you don't fight."

"Trust me," Gohan smiled, thinking of his family for the first time in a while. "My mom and dad fight, _a lot_."

"See?" Dende said, face brightening.

"I don't know…" Gohan shrugged. "Maybe. But my dad is _much _nicer than Vegeta."

Dende laughed. "I think everyone is nicer than Vegeta."

"Except for Frieza."

"Yeah," Dende nodded, solemn, the atmosphere suddenly becoming serious as the two young boys reflected on things years beyond their maturity level. "Except for Frieza."

* * *

He watched a distant boulder erupt into a pillar of smoke as the debris showered the area around him. With a pant, he stopped momentarily and allowed himself to catch his breath. He'd been at it for hours, pushing his body to extremes, hoping to feel himself grow stronger. Since his arrival on Cerius his strength had grown tremendously, but he still didn't feel it was _enough. _Despite the bound in power, he didn't feel any different.

Vegeta wanted to experience a dramatic change. Unsure of what ascension entailed, he thought it must be obvious enough. Once he was there, he would know it. However, it still felt unattainable. No matter how hard he worked, or how much he wanted it, he didn't seem an inch closer.

Taking a seat beneath a tree, he stared up at the night sky and felt the quartet of power levels resting in the distance. He'd purposefully gone far enough that he couldn't subconsciously pick them up, but he wanted to be able to, when he concentrated, be assured that they were alive. He wasn't lying to himself, of course; he'd need Gohan and Nail's help, and he wanted Bulma there.

With an angry growl, he raked his fingers through his mane as he tried to shake off the thought. It was growing inevitable, though. He'd spared her life too many times, shared too many inane conversations with her, to think he was allowing her to live for any delusion he'd previously convinced himself.

She had told him that she'd cared for him, and then made it apparent through her actions when she'd feared for his life. And now she'd gone and smiled that smile of hers, telling him that she _trusted _him. It was maddening. She shouldn't trust him. No one should trust him. However, he knew _she_ could, because he was far too pathetic to do anything to convince her otherwise.

* * *

He took another bite of the charred flesh and watched his companions bicker. Guldo wanted to stay put. He reminded them that Jeice and Burter had been the ones to say they would meet back up here, and if they left now they'd risk never meeting back up. At least, when they had, they would have taken so long Frieza would be more than slightly pissed.

Recoome, however, wanted to move on. He was tired of sitting in one place, and more than anxious to help his other squad members with their battles. They had, obviously, gotten the better end of the deal and taken the more exciting half of the planet.

"What do you say, Ginyu?" Guldo asked, turning to his leader with wide, thoughtful eyes.

"We'll give it another day." He tossed the bone into the fire, watching the flakes of ash disperse. "If they don't show up, we'll go find them."

"My scouter's not picking up anything," Recoome noted, tapping the side of the device. "They must be far."

"Hm," Ginyu nodded, watching the flames for a moment longer, before standing up and making his way back to their ship to sleep. He wasn't sure why, but he had a distinct feeling that they would be going find the Jeice and Burder before they made their way back to them.

* * *

Unable to repair her gun, Bulma had decided to temporarily shelve her hard work and go on a nice, long walk to pass the time. She enjoyed the scenery, and tried to convince herself to treat this as a vacation. There were so many trips she'd wanted to take that she'd put off over the years, and, besides, how many humans got to explore the stars?

During the first few weeks, she had settled on her death with some peace. Sure, she wasn't exactly looking forward to it, and she hoped it was quick and painless. However, she'd grown to understand that it was inevitable. She had seen Gohan's strength unfold over their time here and had developed a glimmer of hope that he would be strong enough to make it. She wasn't sure how he'd get back to Chikyuu, Vegeta, maybe, or perhaps Raditz, but she still hadn't foreseen a scenario that made her own safe return possible by any other means than the Dragon Balls.

This hadn't bothered her, until, during the course of her walk, her thoughts had drifted to Vegeta. She knew it was a rather superficial notion, but she suddenly hoped that their only intimate exchange wouldn't be their awkward encounter in the clearing. What if she died and was wished back without another word with the Saiyan Prince?

It was dark, and she knew she probably shouldn't be out, alone, even if it was technically day. So she made her way back to the cave and screamed when she saw a figure sitting at the mouth of their makeshift shelter.

Her hand flew to her heart as she took a few steps back, but once she recognized the distinctive silhouette, her heart resumed beating as normal.

"Vegeta?" She asked, approaching the man who was leaning against the cave, arms crossed.

He opened his eyes as he watched her advance, though he'd felt her energy since he'd landed outside the cave, only to find it empty. He felt Nail nearby, and knew the Namekian was most likely taking advantage of the darkness for his meditation. The boys were by the stream, _not _training.

"You're back," she noted, smiling as she neared him. "I assume your training went well."

"Hm," he replied, eyes studying her blue ones. "Much easier to train without all of you idiots distracting me."

They stood there in silence, hovering by the entrance of the cave. Bulma watched as the proud prince made no move to go inside, and, as she turned, she frowned.

"Your arm," she reached out and twisted the appendage to get a better look. "You're bleeding."

"Feh," he shrugged her off, "a scratch."

"I've had scratches," she said, rolling her eyes and entering the cave, "and they never bled like that."

She turned around and opened her mouth, to lecture him on the importance of keeping himself in good health. However, her words were cut short by the force of his mouth on hers.

Blinking, Bulma felt the Saiyan pull away.

"Quiet," he growled, face inches from her own. She felt his warm breath and watched as he studied her lips. Her tongue subconsciously darted between them, feeling herself edge between nervous excitement. "I can hear you bitching before you've opened your mouth."

She smiled. "I must be more effective than I thought."

With a sudden surge of boldness, Bulma leant forward and closed the distance between their bodies. She was going to die anyway, and she'd already decided that she didn't want go back to Chikyuu sexually deprived. Pulling away, she met his eyes and decided to explain their predicament to him. "Vegeta, I think-"

"Woman," he grumbled, eyes narrowing, and before he could say another word Bulma pressed the lower half of her body flush against his own and her lips to his.

He felt a swell of victory as he claimed her mouth, and taking a few steps back, he pushed the woman's back against the wall of the cave. He didn't think as he felt Bulma wrap her arms around his neck, securing him to her small frame, and taking his lower lip between her teeth. He wouldn't allow himself to. He would be angry later, but not nearly as frustrated if he denied himself this.

When his hands were at her waist, lifting the sides of her shirt to explore the flat planes of her stomach, Bulma realized that he'd removed his gloves before she'd approached. She smiled against his lips; he had planned this.

He explored the curve of her waist as Bulma shrugged off her shirt and unhinged her bra. She was afraid he'd rip it off her if she'd gone any slower, but bras were a delicacy on Cerius and she didn't want to go bouncing around the woods without one in the days to come. As soon as the fabric was safely removed, a rough, calloused hand engulfed one of her ample globes. She buckled at the feel of it. It had been so long since anyone had touched her, and she was fairly certain she she'd _never _been touched quite like that.

With her back arched against the wall, Vegeta lifted the woman from the ground. Of their own accord, Bulma's legs wrapped around his waist as she traced her fingers upwards from his temple and into his hair, knitting her fingers in his soft mane and pulling his face closer to hers.

"Insufferable bitch," he muttered when they pulled apart, mind hazy as he watched the lust swell in her eyes, and her lips part, panting, "what have you done to me."

"Oh, Vegeta," she smirked, squeezing her thighs and pressing herself against his hardness, "I haven't done anything to you."

Leaning in, she gently blew against his ear, smirk still lingering on her lips as she once again ground herself against him, "_yet_."

* * *

I've opted for a gentle, twist of lime instead of a full-blown lemon. This is my first story and that would, consequently, be my first sex-scene. Let's just say I've barely mastered the art of dialogue; I can't imagine how sloppy my handle of bumpin' and grindin' through narrative would be. Use your imaginations and consider yourselves lucky. :)

Cheers.

-Lady Lan


	16. Chapter 16

The post-coital of hot, steamy cave sex was complicated. Though Bulma suspected it would be decidedly awkward with Vegeta, cave or no. After she shifted her weight back to her feet and shrugged her panties back on, she was unsure of what do. Stand there awkwardly and wait for Vegeta to step back and excuse himself from the cave? Smile and compliment him on a job well done?

The truth was, it was impossible to cuddle or roll over and avoid eye contact, and so she just stood there, looking at him. Consequently, he remained footed as well. No longer requiring the weight of his arms, he removed them from either side of her and crossed them over his chest.

"I suppose," he said, tugging on his boots, visage impassive, voice stony, "that you'll be expecting this now."

"Eh, I've had better," her grin implied just the opposite. She silently delighted in the fact that he had not brushed her off as a one-time thing. True, she thought one roll in the hay with Vegeta would be sufficient enough to get him out of her system, but she was ecstatic that she'd have the chance to do _that_ again. Or, at least, that the idea wasn't completely off the table.

"Oh?" One his thick brows quirked, but she saw the shadow of a smile on his lips.

Shrugging, she leant her back against the wall of the cave and smirked. "Well," dropping into her best Vegeta-mocking voice, "I suppose it was adequate."

He stood up and tugged on his gloves before closing the distance between them with inhuman speed. Yes he'd said the same of her meals, but this was an entirely different matter and she would pay for implying otherwise. "Hm," he murmured into her collarbone. "I was under the impression that you were more than tolerating it."

"Yeah," she swallowed, the cool cave suddenly very sauna-like. "Hey, Vegeta, do you want to get dinner?"

He pulled away and glanced questioningly at her, but mumbled a barely audible 'yes' before turning and following her from the cave.

As they ate, Bulma's brow puckered. "I can't wait until I'm back on Chikyuu. I'm so tired of this crappy food." She broke a small piece off her MRE and stared down at it with a scowl. It was tasteless and unsatisfying. She glanced up to see the prince staring at their rations with equal displeasure. She was, however, thankful that he hadn't turned down her terrible food in favor of running off and killing another strange creature with his bare hands. It much easier to live on Cerius, she decided, taking a bite of flavorless substance, with a well-stocked fridge and a roof over her head. She almost wished Frieza would hurry up so she could get off this rock.

She paused, staring at the forkful of food, and reflected on that thought. Was dying really worth saving her vanity?

She sighed. "I think I'm a terrible person, Vegeta."

"Yes." He glanced up at her. "This food is vile and you insist on serving it to the Prince of All Saiyans."

Rolling her eyes, she sat the box down. "No, Vegeta. Your taste buds are the least of my concern. I was more thinking of my vanity." Running a hand through her tangled hair, she continued, "I am so self-involved that I considered I'd be better off dead than sleeping in a cave and not having my favorite shampoo."

"Pride, vanity," he shrugged over his meal, "they're not flaws."

Cocking her head to the side, she frowned. "Not flaws?"

"No, they make you stronger, better." He took another bite. "Without them you'd be settling for mediocrity."

"Well, where I'm from it's looked down upon to be narcissistic."

Vegeta shrugged at her words, not bothering to look up from his dinner. "You're from a shithole."

She tried not to take his words, thick with disgust and clipped with indifference, complimentary. However, she was fairly sure Vegeta had just told her that she was better than everyone else from her planet. A silly notion, she figured, since he'd never met another human before, but it brought a swell of pride to her already inflated ego. And, she reminded herself, ego was a positive thing in Vegeta's book.

Setting his food to the side, Vegeta turned his head to west side of the forest and frowned. As Bulma opened her mouth to question his actions, Gohan and Dende came bursting through the trees. The small Namekian placed his hands on his knees and caught his breath. He'd been flying since he learned to walk, longer than the half-Saiyan, but Gohan's speed was incredible. It was more than a little difficult for Dende to keep up, and the dark-haired boy hardly seemed short of breath.

"Gohan," Bulma said, getting to her feet. "What's up?"

"To the south, Vegeta," he answered. Glancing in said direction, he asked, "Can you feel that?"

Bulma sighed. It seemed they were sensing things quite often now, and she once again felt slightly left out.

"Hm." Vegeta grunted, honing in on the trio of power levels. His skills in sensing ki were improving, but he was still ticked that the brat was more developed than he. "The Ginyu Force."

He straightened his gloves and felt as Nail closed in on their position. Turning to the tall Namekian and Gohan, he glared. Bulma thought he resembled an old drill sergeant as he paced and shouted commands at his fellow warriors.

"Listen now," he began, "I'll take Ginyu. He's a very old, very skilled fighter." Frowning, he reflected on something that always made him glad he'd never been on the captain's bad side. "He also has the ability to switch bodies with his opponents at will."

Bulma swallowed, not liking the direction this was going. She quite liked her body, and hoped she was never caught in the crossfire. Of course, she was physically inferior so she was unsure why Ginyu would bother switching bodies with her.

"Any other tips?" Nail asked, also shaken by the news of the body-snatching opponent.

"Guldo, the small one, is the weakest member of the Force," he cocked his head towards Gohan. "You'll take on him. Be sure to get in soon so he isn't able to hold his breath."

"Hold his breath?" Gohan asked. "Why?"

"He has the ability to stop time so long as he holds his breath." With that, he turned to Nail. "Recoome is more sadistic. Don't think you have the upper hand in the beginning. He enjoys playing with his opponents."

"Good then," Nail nodded. "Anything else?"

"Be sure to attack them as soon as they land. No small talk," Vegeta frowned once more, his eyebrows twitching of their own accord. "And, for the love of god, please get them before they start posing."

Bulma smiled. "Posing?" She crossed her arms as soon as she realized she was being ignored.

"You two," Nail spoke, his eyes on Dende. "Get out of here."

"But Nail," the small Namekian protested. "I can help. Please, just let me stay."

"You can help by staying alive and ensuring that I am safely wished home." Nail turned towards the approaching fighters without another word as Bulma and Gohan exchanged a look, slack jawed.

"Impossible…" Bulma muttered, before shaking her head and grabbing Dende's hand. She began dragging him away from the fight, though it was clear the small Namekian wished to stay. "Ready to get the heck out of Dodge?"

Once at a safe distance, Bulma and Dende stopped running, and she released his arm. Turning to face the battle, Bulma glowered. She wished she had her gun, or some of her friends' physical strength. "If I wanted to sit on the sidelines I would have stayed on Chikyuu…"

"We're still in the midst of the action," Dende spoke, wringing his hands together. Bulma watched the nervous movements and sighed. Perhaps her situation here would be to comfort the small Namekian.

"You're right. How're they doing?"

"Well." Dende said, concentrating on the six kis at the base of the hill. "Gohan is especially quick. I think if he were able to let go, he could be as strong as Vegeta."

"Really?" Bulma muttered, amazement lacing her tone. "Well, he is Goku's kid…" Still, though, she was startled by this news. Gohan was just a kid, and he hadn't had nearly as much experience as Vegeta. A part of Bulma wanted Gohan to be able to be unleash this hidden strength, to help them win against the forces below them and, eventually, to help slay Frieza. There was, however, a small part of her that dreaded the thought of Vegeta's reaction on the off chance he were to be upstaged by a half-Saiyan child.

"It won't be long," Dende continued. "Gohan's far stronger than his opponent, and he's much too quick to allow him to hold his breath."

"And the others?"

"I…" swallowing, the Namekian turned away from the fight to frown at the human woman. "I fear for Nail. He is incredibly strong for a Namekian, but I believe he is outmatched."

"And," she chewed on her lower lip, "Vegeta?"

"He should be fine. He is strong, and his strength only seems to increase."

She was powerless to do anything but nod in response.

A few kilometers away, Gohan powered down and descended, feet touching the ground with a single, hallow plop. He placed his small, sweaty palms on his knees as he caught his breath. His opponent, Gouldo, was no match for his strength, but he had certainly worn himself out by keeping his opponent on his toes. He tried to wear him out so, when the small alien was able to hold his breath, he was so exhausted from dodging Gohan's attacks he'd had no choice but to open his mouth to inhale.

Glancing upwards, Gohan watched as the other two battles raged on. Vegeta seemed to be fairing well; in fact, he thought he might be toying with the Captain. Nail, however, seemed weary against Recoome's strength. He would go help Nail, he decided, as soon as he caught his breath.

Nail was heeding Vegeta's words, but hoping that, at that moment, Recoome was not simply playing with him. Another swift kick to the gut sent him flying a few yards back; he steadied himself and charged towards the bulky warrior.

He knew, however, that he was outmatched as it was, and if Recoome were simply delaying his better abilities for the sake of a more exciting fight, he was dead.

Dead, he thought, as an energy beam grazed his arm and sent a burning sensation through his core. It was a strange word to think of regarding himself, but he knew his brothers on Namek would have three wishes waiting incase he failed in returning home.

He wasn't so much scared for himself, he looked to his left as Vegeta and Ginyu exchanged blows, and then down towards the small half-Saiyan, panting on the ground, and felt the tiny energy of Dende a safe distance away. No, it wasn't his own life that he feared for, but his small Namekian companion's. Dende was pure and innocent, and didn't deserve to feel the pain of death.

Taking another blast to the gut, Nail coughed up a small splattering of blood, and watched as it plunged towards the ashen ground below.

"Nail," Gohan called, powering up and coming to his side. "Are you okay?"

Gohan turned from the battered Namekian to the grinning, redheaded warrior before them. He shuddered.

"Dende," Nail spoke, smiling at the boy. "Get to safety. I can handle this guy."

"Uh," Gohan blinked, staring down at the Namekian. "Nail…"

"Recoome would like to finish what he started," the booming voice of the fighter commanded. Gohan stepped in front of Nail and shifted into a fighting position. This man was certainly more powerful than Goldu, and he was still weary from their fight.

Tossing back his head, Recoome laughed. He couldn't remember the last time such a small child stood up to him.

Shooting into the air, Gohan sent a flurry of blasts into the Ginyu Force member's direction. Recoome was slightly taken aback as he crossed his arms over his chest, and when the blasts died down he saw several chinks in his armor.

"Hm, you may be more worthy of an opponent than I thought, kid."

Immersed in a battle of their own, Vegeta and Ginyu were unaware of their fallen comrades. It wasn't until a sudden surge of energy spiked so powerful neither could ignore, that they broke away and turned to stare as Recoome plummeted into the ground. Neither watched the brawny man as he slammed into the ground, causing a depression in the dirt below. Instead, Vegeta blinked in awe at the boy in the air, and Ginyu, having heard his scouter chirp with an improbable reading, clicked it frantically. Hands shaking, he read the number once more. "Impossible."

As Recoome twitched on the ground, Gohan powered up once more, tapping into energy he hadn't known he possessed. It was for Dende, he told himself, feeling the energy surge inside of him and release into his palms. Nail had thought it was Dende who crouched beside him in his last moments of life, and for his friend Gohan would avenge Nail's death.

"No," Vegeta whispered, as he felt Gohan's energy as the blast formed in his palms. He swore, for the briefest moment, he saw the small, half-Saiyan flicker. In that flicker, the power was unimaginable. "It can't be…"

As the blast left Gohan's palms and hurdled towards the warrior slouched face-first, Ginyu could only grin. Taking in a deep breath, he steadied his focus on the small child.

"No," Vegeta grunted, watching as Ginyu concentrated on Gohan. With a blast of his own, Vegeta sent the Captain flying back a few yards before descending upon him. He was slightly shaken by Gohan's sudden surge of power, and the threat of the possibility of it, but he was still levelheaded enough to keep Ginyu from getting his hands on it.

Bulma watched as the small boy sobbed. She dropped to her knees and tried her best to comfort him. "What is it Dende? Is everything alright?"

She knew, however, that everything was not alright. With her hands on the small boy's shoulders, she tried consoling him.

Pulling away, the small Namekian stared at her through his misty eyes. "Nail… he's…"

"Oh no," Bulma whispered, pulling the small boy closer to her side.

"Gone," he choked. "I wasn't even able to help him. I could have helped him."

"I know," she nodded, rubbing his back and rocking him. Staring into the distance, she prayed that everyone else was okay.

So they sat there, Dende's sobs echoing in the silent clearing. Bulma rubbed his back and stared, wide eyed as the peace sunk in. The battle was over, and she waited, unable to sense anything, for the victors to approach them.

It felt like hours before Gohan and Vegeta landed before her. She released Dende and smiled sadly at the pair. Crossing the distance between them, she dropped to her knees and hugged Gohan. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Thanks Bulma," he said, face expressionless. Bulma pulled away and watched him go to Dende's side. It then dawned on her that, though he'd come accustomed to death since his landing on Cerius, he'd yet to lose an ally.

"Should we run?" She asked, turning to Vegeta.

"No," he crossed his arms and stared into the sky. One of the suns was rising, and the splattering of orange light drew a fiery silhouette around his dark hair. Bulma watched his eyes as they narrowed and studied the sky, waiting for his answer. "Ginyu said that we were the last on the planet. It's only a matter of time until Frieza is here. Until then, we wait."

* * *

"Two at a time," Goku repeated Kami's words, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, then we'd better pair up."

Yamcha and Krillin glanced at one another as Tien and Chiaotzu exchanged nods.

"Well then," Goku said, smiling at the tall Namekian. "Guess it's you and me, Piccolo."

Frowning at the thought of spending a year, alone, with Goku, Piccolo agreed only for the advances training in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber would do for his power level. Besides, Goku was by far his biggest challenge and therefore his greatest chance of growing stronger.

Chichi watched her husband as he questioned Kami about the food supply with a roll of her eyes. She turned from the warriors to the ledge of the Lookout and concentrated on her son's restful ki. Earlier they had felt it spike to an impossible level, and Goku had feared the strength of their opponents. He also joked that they better get to training seriously before Gohan got back, because he didn't wanted to be upstaged by his son.

The truth was, Goku himself had felt energy similar to Gohan's inside himself. It seemed unreachable, until he felt his own son tap into the source. If he could only grasp that kind of power, then their planet would be out of harms way. He'd lightheartedly said that he didn't want to be outmatched by Gohan, but the truth was that he felt a sense of dread looming over their heads. He'd always been in tune with his planet, and he felt an ominous threat on their horizon.

It could, of course, just be a feeling. Kissing his wife's cheek he grinned at her, but he'd never pass up the opportunity to train. "See you soon, Chichi."

"Yes," she smiled watching as the freighting Namekian stared at her husband from the entrance to the Time Chamber. "I'll see you tomorrow, Goku."

"Yep," he laughed, hand behind his head. "And I'll see _you _next year."

"Be safe," she whispered as he turned away from her and followed the Namekian into the Chamber. She'd been frightened of Piccolo because he was an alien, but the truth was her own husband was an alien. It was still a strange notion to grasp.

"Woo, am I glad I don't have to spend a year in there with Piccolo," Krillin joked as the door closed behind the pair of fighters. Everyone around him, apart from Chichi, joined in laughter.

"I don't know," Yamcha said, flexing his bicep as he crossed his arms. "I bet I could take him."

At this, even Chichi cracked a grin.

* * *

She pressed her back against the cave and watched as Dende tried teaching Gohan Namekian. She smiled; the book smart child caught on quickly, though stumbled at some of the more alien pronunciations. It was a good distraction, she thought, for both boys, and Chichi would be proud her son was still managing to educate himself.

"Gohan," Dende interrupted, a frown tugging on his lips. "Tomorrow, will you join me in giving Nail a proper burial?"

Her attention turned from the children's more serious shift in conversation to the opening of cave, watching as Vegeta entered. He'd gone to hunt his dinner, though Bulma and Gohan had opted to stay inside as they'd lost their appetites. Also, neither wanted to leave Dende alone.

She smiled as he entered the cave and took a seat beside her, handing her a coffee mug filled with water. Normally Bulma had an issue with drinking something cold from a container intended for something warm, but in that moment she couldn't have cared less. It was the only set of cups she had on her, and it was a surprising gesture coming from Vegeta. She took the water and sipped it.

Gohan blinked as he watched the exchange. It was strange for Vegeta to give Bulma something he knew she wanted, but hadn't even asked for. It was beyond bizarre. He glanced at Dende and thought that perhaps the Namekian had been right about the nature of their relationship.

"How long before Frieza realizes that the Ginyu Force is gone?" Bulma asked, turning to face Vegeta, eyes cast over her mug and her voice small so as not to let the two young boys in on the conversation.

Vegeta shrugged. "Their scouters will have let Frieza know. Not too long."

"Is he much stronger than Ginyu?" She asked, cocking her head slightly. She'd done the math, and they'd faired well three against five. Surely two against one would reach a similar fate. "You seem to take him down easily enough, and you're even stronger now."

She watched his visage constrict in thought, his eyes distant and dark. Bulma briefly considered bringing up Gohan's apparent strength, but didn't want to anger the Saiyan, so instead remained silent as the contemplation played out across his features. She also remembered Vegeta's hatred of the tyrant, and knew this was more than a simple battle for him. It was basically what he'd been training and fighting for since he was a child.

"Well," she shrugged, "I guess it doesn't matter. If we die, we die. Thinking about it won't do us any good."

His eyes widened at her words and he stared at her, thoughts once again on how strange the woman was…

"I know you'll try your hardest, though," she continued, voice confidant and a sliver of a smile on her pink lips. "You don't think he'll make us fight one another, do you? Me and Gohan, against you and Dende? Raditz said that only people of the same race could be left to fight Frieza."

Vegeta watched her face fall and shrugged. "I don't care about Frieza's stupid rules. I will attack him before he's able to enforce them."

"Good," Bulma nodded, taking another sip of her drink. "I wouldn't stand a chance against you without my guns."

"You don't stand a chance against me with them," he scowled.

"Oh?" One of her brows cocked, a grin etched her features. "I seem to remember bringing you to your knees."

"And we will see who's on their knees next," he grumbled, causing Bulma cough up some of her water as a bright blush stained her nose and cheeks.

"Hey, you okay Bulma?" Gohan asked, looking up from his discussion with Dende on the other side of the cave.

"Yep," Bulma tipped her head, "all good." Taking another sip of water, she glanced at Vegeta through her full lashes. "Well, then, I'm looking forward to it."

He gave her no sign he'd heard her. Instead, he closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned his head against the wall of the cave. There were no strong power levels heading in their direction, but he swore by the time Frieza approached he would have his sensing abilities perfected. Until then, perhaps he would give the woman something to look forward to.

* * *

From her on out, I'm considering taking a more Shakespearian approach. Not iambic pentameter, necessarily, but more of a: _They fight. Ginyu falls._

Seriously though, despite my complaints I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Yay BV time. As far as the previous chapter goes, heh, you guys sure are hard to please! Several of you wanted a lemon and others were angry that I bumped the rating up… I do, of course, appreciate everyone's comments and am thankful that you care enough to have opinions! Yay! Keep them coming. :)

-LL


	17. Chapter 17

Her head resting on his chest, she ran a finger absentmindedly over his bronze skin, fingering the well-defined lines of his pectorals. She wasn't sure why she was still so impressed by his physique; men with muscles were nothing new to Bulma Briefs. She had been surrounded by them, and had even dated one, as a teenager. However, she traced a scar on his firm torso, knowing that he'd worked incredibly hard to earn these.

Lifting her head, she watched as he opened his eyes, meeting her own with a frown.

"You know," she grinned, "cave sex was great and all, as it was in the stream, the edge of the stream," she jerked her head to their left, watching as Vegeta craned his neck to follow her gesture, "against that tree over there, and right here. But, Vegeta, I'm not really an outdoorsy girl. I much prefer it in beds with high-thread count sheets and on sanitized kitchen countertops. This woodsy thing is losing some of its appeal."

To emphasize her point, she glared at a clump of leaves and dirt matted in her hair. Her hair, that was once beautiful and silky, was now subjected to humidity and tree bark on a daily basis.

"Come back to Chikyuu with me," she sighed, leaning back against the warmth of his bare chest. "You'll _love _Egyptian cotton."

She felt her head lift with the force of his grunt. It had only been a silly, offhand suggestion, though she knew part of her was serious.

"I would never settle on your worthless planet," he said, sliding his eyes closed as he felt the woman once again run her fingers across his chest. "It would be a waste of my existence."

"Oh, it wouldn't be _that _terrible, Vegeta," she began. "I'd build you any training equipment you can dream up, and I'd feed you better than these tasteless MREs. You could experience Egyptian cotton," she grinned suggestively, though her face was buried against him and he couldn't see her, even if his eyes had been open. "My family's the richest on Chikyuu, you know? You could have anything."

His brow rose at this. "Royalty?"

"No," she shook her head, "no, not royalty. The king of my home world is more of a military figurehead; there's no swanky court or anything. The money's in corporations, of which my father happens to be president and owner of one of the largest and most successful."

Vegeta had stopped listening to her bragging and chuckled. "Chikyuu military? Pathetic. I could crush it with my bare hands."

Frowning, Bulma wondered if perhaps it weren't such a good idea to entertain ideas of dragging a sadistic man like Vegeta home with her. Sure, her mother would most likely swoon over his physique and dedication and her father would remain as oblivious as always, but Raditz, his companion, _had _come to her planet to destroy it. If he hadn't thought about getting the humans in on the Intergalactic Battle Royale, he may have carried out his original plan. She wondered if he hadn't succeeded, if Vegeta would come to revenge his death and finish what he started. Shivering, she pushed the thought aside; she didn't want to imagine an alternate scenario in which she died by Vegeta's hands. He was becoming something to her, something she couldn't quite put a finger on. It wasn't that she was in love with him or anything, but she felt a sort of attachment to him she'd never felt before. If he hadn't brushed off the mere thought, she'd be more than happy to escort him back to Capsule Corporation with her, Chikyuu military be damned.

When Vegeta got up, unceremoniously dropping her to the ground, she rubbed her head and watched him dress. She followed suit, without complaint, as she was surprised he'd allowed so much of his time to go to waste lounging around and talking with her.

She knew that the peaceful air surrounding them and the two boys was only temporary, but they'd spent the last two days avoiding the subjects of Frieza and impending doom. Vegeta and Gohan had trained, and the training had only intensified once Vegeta found out that the Namekian possessed healing abilities. It was when Gohan and Dende played together that Vegeta would seek her out, and it was becoming a routine she could get used to.

"Woman, you wear entirely too many garments," he grumbled, as she pulled a vest over her shirt, which was over her bra.

"Wear less clothes around Vegeta," she nodded, pulling up her pants. "Got it."

He smirked and she finished dressing, coming to his side. They started the trek back to the cave for lunch when Bulma watched Vegeta's face fill with confusion.

"What is it?" She asked, a hint of dread in her voice. Confusion on Vegeta's face was never a good thing.

"Nothing. Just the brats." He shrugged. "They're not at the stream."

"Oh," Bulma laughed. "They're kids. Exploring is fun for them. At least they're not in any danger. Remember, the only bad guy out to beat the living crap out of them is _you_."

"You talk too much," he said, earning him a bump in the shoulder.

"Sorry bud," she shrugged, trying to look haughty, but the effect was short-lived, as she had to rub her sore shoulder. What was Vegeta made out of anyway, she grumbled to herself, steel? Lifting her nose in the air, she continued, "I agreed to wear less clothes around you, but there's no way I'll remain mute. You see, I'm a modern woman, and we give our opinions very freely."

"Modern woman?" Vegeta snorted, "Loud mouth wench is more like it." Though he didn't say anything further. He'd come to enjoy her sharp tongue, knowing that he would have grown bored of her long ago without it.

She also didn't retaliate. As soon as the words left his mouth, she saw the admiration in his eyes. Sure, she knew he respected her, it wouldn't do to go throwing yourself at a man who didn't, but it was still pleasant to know that Vegeta respected her. Vegeta, after all, was not the kind of man who handed out things like trust and respect lightly.

"So," she said, turning away from the prince's powerful profile, "are the boys far?"

"They're with Nail's body."

"Oh," she answered with a solemn nod. The boys were not adventuring, she realized, but had probably gone to pay the fallen Namekian their respects.

* * *

Gohan watched as the small Namekian wrapped the white fabric around his fallen mentor. The pure, pallid color juxtaposed against the dark brown soil of Cerius, and Gohan frowned as he watched a few of Dende's tears dot the dry ground.

As the Namekian took a few steps back, both boys nodded at one another and covered the hole with dirt. When they were done, they sat in silence, neither saying anything. Dende wiped his cheeks until they were ruddy and dry.

"Thank you, Gohan," he said, bowing his head. "Nail deserved his rites as a true warrior. We are all brothers, sons' of Guru, but it wasn't until we landed on this planet that I really got to know Nail."

Gohan, unsure of what to say, simply nodded and took a seat a few yards away, turning his face up to the sky to watch the pair of suns in the distance.

Dende joined him and sighed. "I shouldn't be so sad. Nail died, but I'm sure he'll be okay."

Tilting his head, Gohan remembered Nail saying something about being wished back to life. At the time, he and Bulma had exchanged an unsure look, but he was beginning to wonder if it weren't a coincidence.

"Do you know about the Dragon Balls on Chikyuu?"

"There are Dragon Balls on Chikyuu?" Dende asked, his face clouded with thought. "I had no idea. You must have a Namekian on your planet."

Gohan shrugged, unsure if this were the case. It seemed unlikely, as space travel wasn't too common on his planet, but he didn't out rule the possibility. Nothing, it was becoming apparent, was impossible.

"Namekians can create Dragon Balls, yes," Dende continued. "I am sure the elders will bring Nail back soon. I almost hope they would wish me back too… However, we do not like tempting fate and misusing the Dragon Balls. If Guru feels I should be here, then I guess I should."

"And if you go," Gohan began, tilting his head back against the ground, "they will wish you back to Namek in a year?"

"No," Dende shook his head. "The Dragon Balls on Namek grant three wishes at a time."

"Three wishes?" Gohan laughed. "Wow. It's probably a good thing ours only grant one. My dad's told me some stories about his friends and their fights over the ridiculous things they wanted to wish for…" Still, though, in the probable case of both his and Bulma's demise, having three wishes would be quite handy.

"When you get back to Chikyuu," Dende said, joining his friend on his back, "you should see if you can locate the Namekian on your planet."

"Hm," Gohan nodded. "I'm sure if there's one on my planet, my dad's already acquainted with him."

* * *

Landing on the pristine marble floor of the Lookout, the short warrior stepped out of the vehicle and capsulated it, adjusting his ball cap over his baldhead and sensing the familiar ki's of his friends spread out across the small fort.

Krillin had gone to Master Roshi's place to give the update to their old mentor, though the old man still seemed more amazed by the fact that Goku had a child than the fact that said child and Bulma were stranded on a distant planet. Krillin could barely tell the old letch about Goku's ominous feeling that their planet was in danger.

"Hey Yamcha," he greeted the tall warrior as he entered the house. "Where's Goku?"

"Uh…" Yamcha stuttered, a blush tinting his cheeks. "He just spent a year away from his wife. They've been occupied all day."

"Oh." Krillin nodded knowingly. He certainly didn't want to interrupt. He had, however, been away when Piccolo and Goku exited the Hyperbolic Time Chamber and wanted an update.

They'd been training since Raditz had left with their friends, but it wasn't until Goku had felt the surge of his son's energy that he realized how behind they all were. Gohan had been training hard, and had been beaten to near-death on several occasions. The boy currently surpassed his own father.

Tien had been the one to point out that, if their own home really was in danger, they would be powerless to stop any threat out there in their current conditions.

So Krillin decided to ask Yamcha how Piccolo and Goku had faired.

"They were in there all day," Yamcha replied. "They came back looking stronger than ever. Goku said he's learned some new attacks and… and…" The warrior trailed off and swallowed audibly. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. "Goku really is an alien. I can't believe how much stronger he was able to get, even in a year's time."

"And Piccolo?"

Leaning back in his chair, Yamcha crossed his arm. "Let's just say I'm glad he's now on our side."

"Yeah…" Krillin answered, scratching his head through his ball cap. "Any chance you and I will make it a whole year?"

"Of course!" Yamcha grinned. "We're two of the toughest dudes on this planet. Besides, we have Bulma's death to avenge."

Krillin blinked at the words, a frown forming on his lips. "Bulma's not dead."

"No," Yamcha sighed. "Not yet. She just feels so far away… I'm ready to have her back. Here, I mean. Back here."

"You two aren't," Krilling clicked his forefingers together nervously, never one to be in the midst of his friends' business, "er, together anymore, right?"

Yamcha shook his head and tipped his chair back so it was resting on its back legs. "No, but we're still close. She's incredibly important to me."

"You two are so hot and cold," Krillin shook head, causing the scar-faced man to laugh.

"Oh just wait Krillin," he grinned. "Soon enough you'll have your own crazy broad to chase after. Trust me, when that day comes, I'll be sure and give you hell."

* * *

"The kings have a hole in them," she said, glaring at the Saiyan who was resting his back against the cave wall on the opposite side of their temporary shelter, "but other than that they're all here."

"Cool," Gohan grinned as he watched Bulma shuffle the playing cards.

Vegeta tilted his head and opened his eyes to watch the human pair as they quickly threw cards on the floor, slapping at them and laughing like idiots. He grunted. The woman believed he could last surrounded by thousands more just like them? It hurt his head just having two humans in his vicinity. To think, an entire planet of shrieking, smiling weaklings.

"Hey Bulma," Gohan asked, as she collected the cards and began dealing once more. "Do my mom and dad really love each other?"

"What?" She asked, one of her thin brows quirking. She paused dealing the cards and cocked her head to the side. "Of course they do, little guy. Why would you ask something like that?"

"Well, it's just that my mom yells a lot," he explained, scratching his head, "and my dad sometimes leaves to train for long periods of time without warning."

"Ah," Bulma nodded. "Well, that's Goku for you. Your father's a free spirit, kid. Even though he's kind of a goob, and at first didn't really know what he was agreeing to when he married your mom, he proposed." She sighed dreamily. She could remember it, but parts of the proposal were fuzzy, as she'd spent a good chunk of the day being angry with Yamcha. "A real, romantic proposal. He may go off and train, but he'll always be there for you and your mom. He loves you both very much."

Before Gohan could respond, Vegeta snapped. "Would you two shut up?"

Bulma beamed from across the cave. "No way, Vegeta. I'm just filling Gohan in on his parent's _love _for each other."

He glared at her, and she broke into laughter at the sheer heat of his stare.

"Seriously Gohan," she said, turning her attention to the boy. "Your mom is the strongest lady on our planet, and if anyone could manage to tie your dad down, it's her. They're perfect for one another. It's just, grownups fight sometimes; it's no big deal."

"Like you and Vegeta?"

"Oh," she nodded, leaning closer and mock whispering, being sure the fuming Saiyan could make out each word, "but that's only because Vegeta's a huge jerk."

Getting to his feet, Vegeta growled. "I am leaving."

Bulma grinned as she watched him depart, but was halted as the small Namekian rushed into the cave's entrance with a pant.

"Hey Dende," Gohan greeted, watching as the other boy caught his breath. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, Gohan," he smiled. "I was at the stream and I found the most interesting insect!"

"Oh," Gohan nodded, jumping to his feet and following the other boy out of the cave.

Bulma glanced down at the cards in her hand and blinked. "Just like his father to leave a lady at the drop of the hat without a word."

"Kakarot," Vegeta grumbled, glaring at the woman who was still watching the boys depart, "settled down with a human woman and allows her to yell at him?"

"Yes," she smiled, turning her attention to the irritated prince. "In his defense, though, Chichi's kind of scary."

Eyes sliding closed, he crossed his arms. Perhaps he would have to take a trip to this woman's planet and teach a thing or two to this pathetic excuse for a Saiyan. It was maddening to think that, of the few of them left, one acted as though he were human and the other was Tarble.

"My shoulder hurts, you know," she said, rubbing the tender spot from where she'd playfully bumped him earlier.

He frowned. "You're entirely too fragile. It's a mystery how you've managed to survive this long on any planet, let alone this one."

"Yeah, but you'll be sorry tomorrow when I'm bruised."

Not bothering to respond to her inane pestering, he sent her an expressionless stare. However, his look waned as he felt something odd, and yet entirely too familiar, skirting the edge of his consciousness.

"No way buster, don't think you're getting off that…" Bulma paused; her smile faltering the moment the look of dread filled Vegeta's dark eyes. It was an odd expression for the normally stoic prince, and she felt her heart drop, "…easy." She swallowed the dry lump in her throat and watched the fear play out on Vegeta's face, the way his brow crinkled and fists pulsed at his side.

Bulma reached in to her satchel bag, pulling out the small, burlap sack and handed it over to Vegeta. "There's only two left," she explained, her voice small and feeble.

Regaining control over himself, Vegeta unclenched his fists and took the Senzu Beans from the woman. He noted the way her pale skin was exceptionally pallid, and how her large, glassy blue eyes swam with trepidation.

This was it, he thought to himself. The moment he'd been living for, what all of his training and beatings and fights had been in preparation of. Without full knowledge of why he did so, he leaned forward and captured the woman's lips with his own. When he pulled away, she smiled and the sadness seemed to evaporate from her eyes.

"How much time do we have?"

"No much," he answered, turning from her and exiting the cave. She followed him, her shaky limbs carrying her into the daylight and in the direction of Gohan and Dende. "Frieza's close."

Bulma nodded. She had known, the moment Vegeta seemed to break into a cold sweat that it was he, but hearing it aloud was like having her fate spelled out for her.

"Well, one way or another," she murmured to herself, quickening her pace to remain at Vegeta's heels, "I'll be home soon."

* * *

Dun, dun, dun!

Nah, not much of a surprise. I'm sure you all knew it was coming.

Thank you so much for all of the reviews for Chapter 16. They really are my fuel and I cannot thank you enough! I seriously got the greatest feedback since I started this story. You guys are the best.


	18. Chapter 18

The sky on Chikyuu was bright and cheery, and as he peered over the edge of the Lookout, he wondered what it was like where she was. It wasn't the first time his mind had wandered to his ex. He hoped the distant planet she was on was beautiful, at least. A smile flittered across his features as he pictured her trapped in a barren wasteland. Bulma was brilliant, and she needed things to tinker with in order to keep sane. If she were in fact bored there, he was sure she was keeping poor little Gohan on his toes. Yamcha nearly shuddered at the possibility of her conditioner-less wrath.

Krillin stepped beside his friend, knowing the emotions playing across his face - amusement, admiration, dread - were a result of thinking about Bulma.

He himself found it odd that, only years ago, Yamcha had been one of their enemies. It was a complete transformation, and hardly any of his bandit ways had prevailed.

His thoughts were clipped, however, as he felt the power level descending upon Cerius. It was close to where Bulma and Gohan's restful ki's lingered, but he could tell one of their acquaintances, the strong one, was well aware of the powerful presence.

Yamcha's eyes widened as he too felt the new power. "I…" he choked, voice caught in his dry throat as his tanned flesh broke into a cool sweat. "I can't believe it. I've never felt anything like it before."

"Krillin!" A voice from behind them called. "Yamcha."

The pair turned to see Goku standing at the edge of the shelter, his dark eyes glazed as he stared into the distance. The wind whipped at the spikes of his unruly hair, and ruffled the loose fabric of his orange _gi._ It was rare that the pair found Goku looking so somber, but they also noted the way their friend looked distinctly in control of his emotions. He didn't shake with fear as Krillin did, or gasp like Yamcha.

"He's strong," Goku spoke, eyes still focused into the blue distance. "Stronger than Gohan right now."

"You don't think," Krillin began, his voice strained, "I mean, Gohan…"

"I think they'll be fine," he nodded. Closing his eyes, he felt the four power levels he'd become so accustomed to. Two of them were faceless, but they still felt like allies to him. "We should continue to prepare though, just in case."

Krillin nodded, and exchanged a look with Yamcha. "How much longer until Tien and Chiaotzu are out?"

"They have two more hours, if they can make it an entire year."

"Well then," Yamcha said, turning away from Goku and glancing at the seven orange orbs gathered on the floor of the lookout. "I guess we're almost on, Krillin."

Krillin too noticed the Dragon Balls, and though his mind was working out possibilities to ensure that all of his friends would be alive to see this thing through, he hoped it wouldn't come to summoning the dragon. Thing always seemed a lot less messy without having to bring Shenron into the mix.

* * *

Though his feet were hovering nearly six inches from the ground, he felt the loose dirt swirl around his heels. His energy was hardly dormant, and he was rather annoyed for having to be on this shithole of a planet in the first place. In reality, he'd thought his brilliant plan would settle the political unrest, give his rowdy soldiers something to do, and he would never have to step foot on this rock himself. No, Captain Ginyu was supposed to destroy it from the air after he'd finished off whoever had made it.

"If you want something done right," he muttered, "apparently you have to do it yourself."

Frieza clicked the scouter over his left eye, listening as it chirped to life, beeping as it searched out the powers nearby. Impatiently, he drummed his left fingers against his right arm as it announced Vegeta's energy, and then gave three other weak readings.

Setting off in the direction, he found himself disappointed in the monkey prince. Sure, it wasn't unlike the unruly Saiyan to play things by his own rules; Vegeta had more often than not lead clearly ordered missions any way he saw fit, but to _defy_ him as a spy? To put to death members of his elite squadron of warriors for his own selfish gain?

It wasn't the fact that Vegeta had somehow managed surpass the Ginyu force in strength, but rather that he'd developed the nerve to rebel again him.

"Oh Vegeta," he murmured, scaly voice quavering, "when I get my hands on you…"

His threat died on his lips as his features shook with anger. Taking into the air, he headed in the direction of his four challengers, though Vegeta, he decided, was to be his only opponent.

* * *

As Bulma and Vegeta entered the clearing, they found the two boys waiting for them. Their faces already expressed terror and panic, and Bulma realized they too must have felt the energy that had Vegeta nearly shaking in his boots.

She smiled as her eyes swept the prince, looking ever regal as he began informing the pair about the approaching enemy. It had been the kiss, she reminded herself, that made him appear a bit more like prince charming, as opposed to the Prince of the Unpleasant Underworld vibes he'd usually given off.

"I guess there's no need for us to run this time," she spoke, smiling at the small Namekian. "Huh, Dende?"

"No," Vegeta answered. "Frieza's scouter, and the reports given to him by the Ginyu Force, have let him in that there are four of us. He'll be expecting us all. There's no point in escaping.

"Gohan," He reached into the bag Bulma had given him and tossed the boy one of the Senzu Beans. "There are only two left; use it wisely."

Bulma almost smiled as the small half-Saiyan nodded and bowed at the waist. She refrained however, because even though she couldn't sense ki's the way her friends could, she could literally _feel _the powerful, crackling energy that moment. Turning and lifting her head to the sky, she watched as a figure floated above them. His small frame blocked a bit of the sun, but she still had to put her hand on her brow in order to make out his features.

She hadn't expected the universes' greatest tyrant to be so small. Or so purple... However, as his beady eyes fixed on Gohan and Vegeta, who rose to meet him the air, she felt a chill rush to the base of spine. There was a wickedness about him, and it was entirely different than the dark mystery surrounding Vegeta. Frieza seemed … _evil_.

She took a step back, hoping to hide herself in the shade of the tree. Dende shifted closer to her, also sensing the type of person this Frieza was.

"Vegeta," Frieza's high voice rang, sounding distant and hallow to Gohan, who watched as the alien's eyes narrowed towards the Saiyan Prince. "I thought you were clear on my rules."

"Hn," Vegeta snorted, looking nonchalant as he surveyed the tyrant's first form. "Sorry Frieza, but I haven't listened to any of your rules since I found out the truth about my planet."

"Oh?" A cool smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Is that what this spell of rebellion is about? Vegetasei?"

Gohan watched as the prince shook with fury. Vegeta's voice boomed as he leaned towards his foe. "You will pay for what you have done to the Saiyan race!"

"Yes, yes, fine," Frieza sighed, looking rather bored with Vegeta's temper. "But first let's review our rules, shall we? Only two people of the same race can fight me."

"He's half-Saiyan," Vegeta grunted, narrowing his eyes at the tyrant. "But, please, if you're afraid to fight a child."

"A Saiyan, hm?" Frieza laughed, cocking his head back with a grin. "And, the Namekian and woman below?"

"Weaklings," Vegeta muttered, hoping his voice didn't betray the slight quake that shook his frame. His eyes flashed downward for the briefest moment, and, before he could comprehend what Frieza had done in the span of a millisecond, the place the pair had been standing was nothing more than a column of smoke. There was no ki to be sensed from the place he knew Bulma and Dende should have been.

"No!" Gohan screamed, lurching forward as he watched the results of Frieza's energy beam. His small frame shook as he surveyed the land below, his throat dry as he whispered, "no…"

"Please don't tell me that those two weaklings were Saiyans too." Frieza smirked, pleasantly surprised by the reaction his blast had caused. Vegeta's eyes narrowed, his glare murderous as he balled his hands at his sides. Frieza laughed, his tone callous and voice mechanical. "Oh, were those two _friends_ of yours, Vegeta?"

Gohan blinked, and before he could make a move to avenge his fallen friends, Vegeta launched himself towards Frieza.

He watched in amazement as Vegeta assaulted the smaller warrior. Gohan had difficulty following the storm of attacks, watching as Vegeta sent a flurry of blasts, his hands pedaling with each attack. The small half-Saiyan was worried the prince would tire soon, with the speed of each rotating blast. First firing from his right hand, and immediately echoing it with a blast from his left, both palms outstretched as he fought for breath, eyes ablaze.

Frieza wanted to be amused at the passion the prince was displaying after the loss of two weaklings, but the moment Vegeta had charged him, powering up in the process, Frieza's scouter had shattered into pieces. Frieza had closed his eyes, momentarily lowering his guard and putting himself into harms way. He stood, as the spell of Vegeta's blows trapped him, in shock at the broken shards of glass littering the ground.

* * *

He closed his eyes, feeling the loss of Dende as though it was his own, a hurt in his chest at the small, innocent child who had lost his life so pointlessly. Opening his eyes once more, Guru's eyes scanned the throng of his children, crowding around his throne, eagerly waiting on the news.

"It is a sad day, my children," the old Namekian sighed. "Gather the Draon Balls from the villages; it is time for our brave brothers to return to Namek once again." When he sensed confusion in the crowd, he clarified, "Use the first wish to bring Nail back, the second to bring young Dende back, and the third to wish them both to Namek."

He watched as seven of his children quickly took into the air, each to retrieve the Dragon Ball they guarded. Once again, he closed his eyes, willing the two warriors so far away to wait, assuring them that they would be home soon.

* * *

With a gasp, he sat up and rubbed his head. It hurt, a strange, throbbing pain. Turning to his side, he took in the fallen body of Bulma, and then glanced to the battle raging in the sky. Dende blinked in awe; he had never seen Vegeta move so swiftly before, hadn't imagined that the warrior could posses so much strength. It seemed as though his stream of blasts was endless, though there were signs, he noted, of fatigue. The gasping pants Vegeta took, and the way his elbows shook between each blow. Despite this obvious exhaustion, the prince showed no signs of letting up soon.

Dende then trailed his eyes just to the right of the battle, to see Gohan staring back at him. With the shadow of a smile, his friend lifted a hand in a wave. Returning the gesture, Dende grinned.

"Good luck, my friends," the Namekian whispered, before he flashed and was gone.

Staring at the place from which his friend had vanished, Gohan allowed himself to smile. Dende would be fine, and Nail too, he realized. He wouldn't think about Bulma, not yet. She would be on Chikyuu soon enough. Right now the only persons in danger were Vegeta and himself.

Dende was not the only one who noticed that, as Frieza and Vegeta exchanged blows, the prince was weakening some. The warriors above him pulled apart, and Gohan shielded his eyes as Frieza hurled a blinding blast in Vegeta's direction. The prince was tossed a few kilometers back, crashing to the ground.

Rushing to his side, Gohan watched as Vegeta lifted his head, using the support of his forearms to elevate his back.

Gohan knelt beside his prince as Vegeta spat, bloody phlegm landing beside his knee. Gohan shifted his leg and watched the broken warrior with a frown.

"Vegeta…"

"I am fine," he hacked, eyes narrowed. "Go and fight Frieza while I regain my strength."

"Frieza?" Gohan's eyes widened. "But I… I.. there's no way…"

"You are fighting today as a Saiyan," Vegeta barked. "Go, avenge your people. You are lucky to still be alive, brat."

Gohan was powerless but to nod, and as he stepped back he watched Vegeta remove the Senzu Bean from the sack. With a nod, the small boy took into the air, hoping it wouldn't take long for Vegeta to recover.

* * *

"No," Krillin whispered, watching as Yamcha's eyes widened and Chichi's face fell.

"Goku," he pleaded, "Bulma… she's gone."

Nodding sadly, Goku felt the loss of Bulma's energy with a heavy heart. It was his fault, he thought, for being so eager to battle. He put his son in danger with his foolishness, and his irresponsibility had killed his oldest friend.

Walking towards the Dragon Balls, Yamcha spread his arms before them. "We've got to wish her back."

He didn't want to wait. The afterlife seemed cold and empty; it wasn't something he wanted Bulma subjected to.

"No," Goku whispered, and he felt his wife stiffen beside him.

"_No?" _She snapped, her dark eyes catching his. He could feel the anger and confusion swimming in her dark orbs.

Shaking his head, he looked off the edge of the Lookout. "Bulma asked me, before she left, to wait until we knew Gohan was safe before wishing her back. She said she could stay dead a year, just incase."

Chichi nodded, bringing her hand to her chest. She owed Bulma, she realized, for all the brave woman had done for her son. Leaning against her husband, she hoped, for both Bulma and Gohan's sake, that there wouldn't be a _just incase_.

* * *

Rubbing his sore cheek, Gohan groaned. The force of Frieza's jab had literally knocked a tooth out. He quickly picked himself up, standing his ground as he felt the despot descend upon him once more.

It was a baby tooth, he reminded himself, but it still hurt like heck. As he blocked a blast, no longer caring where he deflected it to, he steadied one of his own, watching as it zipped towards his opponent.

Gohan felt something inside him, an energy crackling, ready to burst, just as it had when he'd squared away with the Ginyu Force. However, it was more than clear that Frieza was winning this fight. Frieza had more power, more experience, and was far more battle savvy than he. Gohan celebrated a small victory as he landed a punch square in the tyrant's chest, watching as the purple alien glared back at him.

Taking the moment to gather his energy, he flexed both wrists at his side, palms out, and collected as much power as he could. Exhaling, Gohan released the single most powerful blast he'd ever felt, watching as it snared Frieza head-on.

He caught his breath in the silence that lapsed, and was more than relieved to spot Vegeta once again hovering in the air. The prince had eyes for nothing except for the man shakily rising from the rubble.

Blinking, Frieza took in Vegeta's appearance, flesh unscathed beneath the seeping gaps in his armor. He panted. "Impossible… Your… I destroyed you! How can it be?"

"Gohan," Vegeta called, turning his face towards the small, gasping half-Saiyan.

Floating to his side, Gohan stared back at the freshly healed warrior. He knew Vegeta's strength was even greater now than when he'd first squared away against Frieza. For the first time since the battle began, he felt hopeful.

"Take your Senzu bean," Vegeta commanded, voice low so only Gohan could hear it. "Frieza's ship is just over that ridge, where we first felt his power level."

Gohan nodded in understanding of his words, but not catching the meaning behind them.

Vegeta clarified, "I need you to commandeer his ship while I distract him in battle, understand?"

At this, Gohan looked aghast. Hijack a ship? He didn't know the first thing about opening an alien spacecraft's hatch, let alone preparing one for flight.

However, Vegeta's face filled with rage as he snapped. "You're a smart boy, yeah? All that quizzing you Bulma did, it was for nothing?"

He could feel Frieza getting to his feet, could feel his powerful energy surge, and Vegeta's words about Bulma had stung. Gohan nodded. "I'll do what I can."

Without a response, Vegeta bolted towards Frieza, not allowing his opponent to recover, and displaying all of the gusto he'd shown when he'd attacked Frieza the first time that day with even more strength than before.

Finding the ship, Gohan soon realized, was the easy part. It was a craft similar to the one he'd ridden on with Raditz, though it smelt noticeably better.

Once inside, he stared down at the array of buttons. He remembered a book that his mom had given him, of aircraft schematics. It was a book Bulma had in the collection in the first capsule house. She'd tossed it at him one afternoon when he'd been reading poetry, and told him to learn something useful with his time.

He'd studied it intently that day. However, as his eyes scanned the ship's controls, he forgot about the book and concentrated on the last time he'd been in an alien spacecraft. It was Bulma's pestering of Raditz on his ship's schematics that proved the most helpful. He remembered how she'd drilled him on take off procedures, speed capacities, and the gravity controls.

Smiling, he touched a few buttons, celebrating the two women who helped shape his education. They would both be proud, he told himself. For the first time, he really felt that his brains had helped do as much saving his life as his brawn ever could.

The thought vanished, and he jumped as the door burst open. Turning, he was met with the strained face of Vegeta. Strained and bloodied; Gohan frowned.

"Slowly," Vegeta commanded, turning towards the open hatch, "take off."

Hands flying over the keys, Gohan brought them upwards, ever so slightly. He watched, as the cracked ground of Cerius grew fainter in the distance, and silently celebrated leaving this place.

He watched as Vegeta raised his arm, a powerful blue blast forming in his hands. The blast grew and pulsated in the prince's grasp, and with a shout, Vegeta hurled it from his palm and towards the planet below.

Snapping the hatch closed, Vegeta took a step away from the door. The aftermath of the blast resounded on the metal walls of the ship, the force of it sending them slightly askew.

Gohan brought their speed up a few notches, blinking as he turned and faced the back window of the control room. Cerius, he realized, was nothing but smoke and planetary debris floating in the dark void of space.

Vegeta took a seat beside Gohan and leaned back, watching as the boy trembled.

"You," Gohan blinked. "You just destroyed an entire planet."

"A small planet," Vegeta shrugged. He hadn't wanted to end things that way. Sure, he'd stretched the battle out longer than necessary, wanting to make Frieza suffer. However, if he hadn't been thinking of getting himself and the boy off the planet alive, he'd probably spent days torturing the tyrant. Crossing his arms, he wondered when he'd gotten so soft.

"Set the coordinates to Chikyuu, boy. I'm assuming you want to go home."

* * *

A grim chapter, but remember – all's well that ends well.

-Lady Lan


	19. Chapter 19

He'd forgotten just how boring space travel was. Frieza's ship did not have any books to read, and it didn't take the first-hand experience to come to the realization that Raditz and Bulma were far better company than Vegeta.

Gohan glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and then straightened his spine the second the prince caught him looking. He couldn't help but notice, however, that Vegeta was more sulky and standoffish than usual. He thought they should be happy. Frieza was dead, right?

"Don't look so mad," Gohan spoke, trying to keep his voice even and polite as to not further anger his companion. "You killed Frieza, and avenged your people, right?"

Vegeta glared at the small, half-Saiyan beside him. His trip to Chikyuu had been divided between eating Frieza's non-Saiyan rations, sleeping, doing push-ups, and reflecting on the battle. For some reason, the latter had been the most time consuming, constantly interrupting when he was in the midst of the other activities.

He'd come to the conclusion that he'd taken the cowardly way around things, and he was not the type of person that took such accusations about himself lightly. He'd felt like he and Frieza had been going toe-to-toe, nearly evenly matched. _Nearly_. Therein lay the problem. He knew he was weaker. If Gohan hadn't stepped in, his hair flicking a vibrant yellow for the briefest moment, and hurled that energy blast at Frieza, they'd both be dead. Frieza had been severely wounded by the attack, and Vegeta had taken the opportunity, with his newly restored strength, to gain the upper hand.

The most frustrating part was that even when Vegeta was back at full power, Frieza had been able to fight him, and he'd fought well. So well, in fact, that Vegeta feared for his life. That was what had lead him to do the cowardly thing, fleeing to the ship and blowing up the planet from space.

It was the same way Frieza had destroyed his own home world. His powerful race was taken down without a true fight, and to Vegeta the absence of a true fight meant that there was no true victory. Frieza did not have a true victory over the Saiyan people, just as Vegeta would not be able to enjoy a true victory over Frieza.

Gohan watched the anger flash in Vegeta's eyes, the way his jaw tightened and brow cinched, and scratching his head, decided to change the subject.

"I sensed him," Gohan said, though wondering if it was the best topic to entertain with the fuming prince at his side, "as we took off. He was alive."

"Blasting the planet was the only option to kill him," Vegeta clipped, the words 'for us to live' hung in the air. Gohan sighed.

"Can people live in outer space? He'll die, right? The lack of oxygen, and the pressure… Maybe his head exploded."

Cocking a brow at the child, Vegeta did not offer a response. It was impossible to believe otherwise, he told himself. Frieza was dead.

"I am glad, though," Gohan continued, watching as Vegeta leaned back in his seat, "that Dende is back on Namek. I hope Bulma will be on Chikyuu when we get there. Maybe she'll make us some pancakes, hey Vegeta?"

Vegeta cracked open an eye, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. He had been trying not to think of _her _since the moment he felt her familiar ki vanish from his senses. He'd been bracing himself for the inevitability of her death, but at the sound of her name, his chest clinched. He felt as though he'd swallowed a rock, and the heaviness of it settled on his insides. It was not a particularly comfortable feeling, but Vegeta was used to inner turmoil. It was nothing he wouldn't get past. What he wasn't going to deal with, _ever_, was the boy's confusion. He was not the brat's father, and it was not his responsibility to teach the child about life and death.

If he weren't in such a hurry to get back to Frieza's station, he decided, he'd take a short detour on Chikyuu to deck this poor excuse for a Saiyan.

* * *

Squinting, the first thing she was aware of was the blinding light of the sun. The first thing she did was release a particularly colorful stream of profanities, and quickly clinch her eyelids back together.

"Wow Bulma," she heard a female voice reprimand, though there was a bit of half-humored sarcasm in her tone, "I hope you didn't use similar language around my son."

Slowly cracking open one eye, and then the other, Bulma found herself lying face-up on the floor of the Lookout. She gingerly brought herself to a sitting position, and rubbed her head. Though her eyes scanned the happy faces of her friends and the Dragon Balls she herself had collected months earlier, Bulma could only register one thought: Death was a bitch.

She continued to rub her forehead, deciding that her pounding headache far surpassed the worst hangover she'd ever experienced. And Bulma Briefs had had a particularly nasty hangover or two in her day.

"Hey, guys…" she spoke, her voice sounding distant and awkward through her hazed state. Probably from being dead so recently, and all.

"Hi'ya Bulma," Krillin answered, bending in front of her with a knowing, lopsided grin. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Moaning, she reached for his extended hand and brought herself to her feet. "Yeah."

She shared a nod with Chichi, and exchanged a small smile with Yamcha, before shaking her head and sighing. "Well, this has been fun, not to mention sufficiently awkward, but I need a bath and some caffeine. Stat."

"Sounds good," Krillin smiled. "I can give you a ride back. I've got my capsule copter handy."

"Thanks Krillin." Her eyes scanned the group of warriors around her, and she frowned. "Where's Gohan?"

"On his way back," Goku informed her. "We wished you back as soon as we felt him taking off."

"Taking… off?" She cocked a thin, blue brow. "In a ship?" Crossing her arms, she wondered how long she'd been dead. Had they defeated Frieza and then hitched a ride with Raditz?

"The person you guys were with," Krilling explained, "he and Gohan hoped into a spaceship before Cerius exploded. We were lucky we wish you back in time."

"So that's it, then?" She tapped her fingers against her crossed arms, a smile breaking across her features. "They defeated Frieza?"

"Well," Goku shrugged. "They weakened him and then blew up Cerius, so I'd say so."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Piccolo spoke, and Bulma jumped at his sudden appearance. She frowned, wondering if he had been there, at the edge of the Lookout, the entire time? His arms were crossed and his eyes closed, but it was apparent that he'd been listening to their conversation.

The silence that settled around the group was broken with Goku's hearty laughter. "Relax Piccolo, he's dead. Besides, if by the off chance he _is_ alive and comes to Chikyuu, we've been training all this time to beat him." He grinned at Bulma. "Gohan's real strong, hm? I can tell. I can't imagine all the training he's done."

"Yeah," Bulma blinked. He'd also been put through a lot of near-death situations, but she didn't want to break that news to his proud father. Instead, she turned to Chichi. "I made sure he kept up with his studies. He's very smart."

Glaring at her husband, she nodded. "Yes. It's nice to have _one_ intelligent male in the family."

With that, everyone laughed, and Krillin escorted Bulma towards his vehicle. As she was stepping inside, Goku called out her name.

Turning around, she watched Goku's face become sober.

"Thank you, Bulma," he said, "you did incredibly well. Without you, I know my son wouldn't be alive today."

She nodded.

"And the person he's with," Goku continued, scratching his head. "He's an okay guy, right?"

"Vegeta." Bulma smiled, her hand running across the door to Krillin's copter. "Yeah, he's an okay guy."

* * *

Krillin had told her on the ride back to Capsule Corporation that no one had filled her parents in about her whereabouts. Apparently all the stress had been on informing Chichi of the situation, and the Briefs were never even brought up.

Bulma rolled her eyes, but found she was not all that surprised with her friends' priorities. She, personally, knew Chichi would be far more frantic and worried about her child's sudden departure than her parents. The last thing she'd told them was that she was off to gather the Dragon Balls, and when she entered the compound she found it exactly as she'd left it.

When she walked through the door, her mother popped her head in from the kitchen and smiled at her daughter.

"Oh, Bulma dear! You're home." Fleeing back into the kitchen, she made a noise of surprise, and then reappeared in the doorway. "Hello."

"Hey mom."

"I was thinking," Mrs. Briefs said, tapping a freshly manicured index finger against her chin, "of ordering some treats from the bakery. Would you like anything?"

Bulma opened her mouth, delighting in the idea of food that was cooked by someone else, and more importantly by someone who actually knew what they were doing, but her mother interrupted her once again.

"Oh, silly me, you've been off adventuring. You're probably starving." Her eyes raked her daughter's grimy hair and soiled clothes. "You're looking thin. I think so."

She disappeared back into the kitchen, and without another word Bulma raced to the staircase and flew up the stairs. She drew a bath, figuring her father was probably crouched over some mechanical part and wouldn't want to be interrupted anyhow. She was rather liberal with the bubble bath, but it was one of the worldly pleasures she'd been daydreaming of since their hot water had been destroyed on Cerius.

In the bathtub, she had plenty of time to reflect on Gohan's safety, and the fact that Vegeta was headed to Chikyuu. She leaned back into the hot water, and relished in the feeling of pure, unadulterated sanitation.

The first thing she did after getting out was put on a fresh pair of clothes. Now that she was clean, she didn't even want to touch the outfit she'd spent the last few weeks in, so she left it in a pile on the bathroom floor. The second thing she did was head straight to the salon.

Her hairdresser was not pleased when she appeared at his door without an appointment, and having missed her last one. He took one look at her hair, which was besieged with split-ends and had obviously been neglected its proper treatment for months, and frowned.

After telling her there was booked and there was nothing he could do, she bribed him generously for a styling, and afterwards walked across the street to the small café with a new 'do.

She ordered a coffee, and took it outside, settling herself on a bench, she watched the people walking by with awe.

It was strange to see so many after months of seclusion, and even more odd to know that they were all physically weak, non-bloodthirsty humans just like her.

Fingering her hair, she frowned at the straightened locks. "Much more manageable," she muttered, knowing it would have been a rather sensible cut for Cerius. Though Raditz would have imploded if she'd asked to delay their trip so she could get her hair done.

Sipping the coffee, and listening to the white noise of the city she'd lived in for so long, she enjoyed the frothy, over-priced late. Savoring the flavors, she decided more than anything - the noise, the people, the silky hair - she missed sugary caffeine most of all.

Though there were many things she missed about her home, and she was more than a little ecstatic to be back, there was one thing she missed about Cerius. He was no longer her ally, at least not in the textbook sense, but she couldn't help the bubble of excitement that filled her gut with the knowledge that soon he would be here, too.

* * *

When Goku felt the power levels, he'd been eating dinner. It had been almost two weeks since they'd wished Bulma back, but there was still an edge in the air around them. They met at Kami's to train, and a few days ago Krillin had pointed out that the tension was only because Gohan was still missing.

With the two kis entering their atmosphere, Goku dropped his fork and exited the house without a word. Chichi turned from the sink and frowned at the open front door and half-eaten dinner on the table. With a sigh, she realized it was a good thing she, too, was able to sense her son, otherwise Goku would be in for a lecturing. Instead, she doubled the meal. Her baby boy was probably starving.

Goku was surprised to see Piccolo already at the spot of the incoming ship's projected landing. When he raised a brow at the Namekian, Piccolo only shrugged.

"I wanted to see this Vegeta for myself."

No other words were exchanged. The pair waited in silence until the ship landed in the distance.

Gohan unhinged himself from his safety belt as Vegeta powered down the craft, and the boy leapt from the ship. His confinement had been boring and hellish, and he could feel his father's ki nearby.

"Dad!" He shouted when his feet were safely on his home planet's soil. He could have cried, but he willed himself not to. He'd worked too hard to build up the tougher side of himself to have his father, and Piccolo, see him weep.

He didn't even question the Namekian's presence as he jumped into his father's arms. Goku laughed, arms tightening around his son.

"Wow Gohan! You've gotten strong!"

Gohan pulled away and smiled at his father, and Goku sat him down and mused his hair with another laugh.

"Oh," he said, lifting his eyes to meet the scowling Saiyan Prince. "Hey Vegeta!"

Vegeta's stoic demeanor faltered for a moment as the taller, low class Saiyan greeted him with such familiarity.

Gohan glanced quizzically at his father. "How'd you know his name?"

"Uh," he scratched his head, "Bulma told me."

Nodding, Gohan began telling his father about his adventure, it was scattered and the events out of order. Vegeta took a step back from the family and the casual way they tossed her name about. He needed to get off this planet, and so he turned and entered Frieza's ship, plugging in the coordinates to the Planet Trade Organization's main base.

"Vegeta," Gohan's voice interrupted, and the prince averted his attention to see the boy standing in the entrance of the door, his foot hovering on the light side, as though he couldn't fully will himself back into the spacecraft. "You're leaving already?"

"There are others, not quite as strong as Frieza, but those that are loyal to him."

Gohan nodded. He knew Vegeta had been training in the ship for whatever enemies he still had. With Frieza dead, Vegeta seemed to be almost an empty shell. However, Gohan didn't understand why he'd leave without seeing Chikyuu first.

"No rush, though," Gohan smiled, hopefully. As Bulma had become a sister-like figure to him, Vegeta had become something as well. Perhaps like an older brother, but more likely something akin to a sister's mean, bossy boyfriend that he wanted so desperately to impress. "My mom's a great cook. You should stay a little while."

"I have no business on this planet," Vegeta informed him, his frosty gaze on Gohan as the boy blocked the hatch of his commandeered ship. "Now step away."

Gohan took a step back, and watched as the door swung closed, and without another word, the prince was gone nearly as quickly as he'd come.

* * *

Bulma poured herself into her work. It had happened out of the blue. One afternoon, after lunch, she'd entered her father's lab and literally tossed the plans of his upcoming assignment to the side of his worktable.

"The Gravity Chamber," she said, showing him a blue print of the design he had helped create. "I want to start on this."

"Well," he shrugged, scratching his head. "I guess we can shelve the espresso watch project… but I was really looking forward to that one."

That was all the convincing it had taken her father. She was back to bathing regularly, and had caught up on all of her favorite shows, but work was the only thing that seemed routine now.

She was so buried in this particular project, in fact, that when Yamcha stopped by to visit one afternoon, she nearly burnt herself with the welding torch.

"Yamcha!" She shouted, after seeing that the smiling figure in the doorway was a familiar one.

His smile faltered as she lifted her welding shield, and he noticed the way her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. He was fairly certain her glare had only intensified since her stay on Cerius.

"Hey, babe," he said, stepping into the lab and closing the door behind him. "Your mom said you were down here, and your dad let me in."

She removed the mask from her head, and unplugged her tools, avoiding glancing at him, but he knew she was listening.

Yamcha scratched his head. "I know things were 'off' before you left, but I was really worried about you."

Bulma raised one of her brows. "Oh? Well I'm alive. Again, at least."

"Seriously, Bulma," he stood by the edge of her worktable and bent slightly towards her. "I love you."

"As a friend?" She blurted the words aloud as soon as they'd entered her mind.

He chuckled. "_Yes_, Bulma. As a friend. No offense, but you're kind of a lot of work."

She glared at him, and he came to her side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. It was nice, he thought, to have a real, tangible Bulma present rather than a faint ki on the other side of the universe.

"The work pays of and it's worth every second, of course," he said, smiling into her narrowed eyes. "But I'm sensing that ship has sailed."

Glancing down at the sketch on the table, she sighed. "I don't know Yamcha."

"I do," he laughed. She was grateful that, not matter how mad at her he may be, he still managed to be good-natured about it. "You fell for someone else."

When the blush stained her cheeks, one of his brows arched. "It wasn't Krillin, was it?"

"What?" She laughed. "No."

"Someone from Cerius?" He watched her cheeks flush, and shook his head. "Bulma, you ditz. It wasn't that Vegeat guy, was it? Goku said he seemed a bit moody, but Piccolo said he was a real ass. And _that's_ coming from Piccolo."

"Wait," Bulma blinked; her eyes widened as the thoughts raced through her head. "Vegeta was _here_?"

Yamcha was laughing about how it _was _the jerk from Cerius, but Bulma had tuned him out. Her heart was racing, and her cheeks now burned from anger rather than embarrassment. It seemed as though no matter how hard she worked, or how well she proved herself, it would never be enough. She would be left out, and of things that were definitely in her interest to be a part of.

"How could no one tell me?" She asked, and Yamcha noticed the way her tone teetered from anger and sadness.

"Tell you?"

"That he…" She blinked. "Gohan's here?"

Yamcha shrugged, trying to pick his words as to not upset the temperamental woman. "Yeah, he's safe."

"I spent _months_ with him, and with Vegeta, and no one thought 'hey, let's let Bulma know that all of her hard work and dedication paid off, and actually invite her for a change'?"

"Look babe, I wasn't even there." He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head to glare at the offending limb. With a sigh, he removed it. "I'm sorry Bulma. We are all amazed at how brave you were for stepping up, and how well you did. You probably lasted longer than I would have. Hell, Krillin and I could barely spend an entire day in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber."

"I'm still pissed," she mumbled, despite being obviously pleased by his flattery. At this, Yamcha laughed.

"I know."

* * *

He'd gotten rid of his scouter on Cerius, but as he sat alone in the ship, coordinates set to Frieza's base, he wished he'd had it to contact his comrades.

Getting to his feet, Vegeta rummaged through Frieza's armory supplies, and settled on an unused, red scouter. Clicking over his left eye, he entered Raditz's pin and waited for the burly Saiyan to connect.

"Vegeta?" The voice answered, obvious surprise and unveiled contentment in his tone. "You're alive?"

"Of course I'm alive," the prince snapped. Had his subordinates had so little faith in him?

"Well… we just…" Raditz's voice lowered, and through the connection Vegeta heard the third-class slide a doorway closed. "Nappa and I are on a ship heading to the T-quadrant. Where are you?"

Glancing down at the gridded screen, he calculated his own position. "Not too far from there."

"Meet us at the filling station," Raditz commanded. "You know the one."

Yes, Vegeta frowned, his brow lowering in confusion. The prince was a smart man, and he understood that communicating through scouters was easily intercepted. So he cut off the transmission and reset the coordinates to the filling station that Raditz favored for the scantly clad attendants, and Nappa for the especially delicious snacks.

An hour and half later, Vegeta sat at a booth in the back of the station's restaurant, drumming his fingers against the smooth, dense plastic surface of the table. He _despised _waiting on others, especially his foolish fellow Saiyans. He was their prince, and if anyone should be waiting on anyone...

When he entered through the doorway, Raditz was easily spotted with his unruly hair, large frame, and small armor. He insisted anything, including spandex, was bulky and only served to get in the way. Nappa wasn't far behind, and when Vegeta was able to make out the large, bald figure, he nearly snapped. He only held it in, he assured himself, as to not draw attention to himself.

Sliding into the booth across from him, Nappa offered the prince anything from his array of salty and sweet snack foods. When Vegeta only glared in reply, Nappa shrugged and stuffed a handful of corn nuts into his mouth.

"Are you late because you took a detour?" Vegeta's voice was level, his eyes on the bags of food in Nappa's arms.

"Sort of," Raditz shrugged, and quickly diverted the subject. "We thought you were dead."

"I was only on that mud-ball for a month and half, two months tops." Vegeta had not been tracking the days, but he knew it was a fair estimate. What he didn't understand was why they would assume him dead for his brief absence. They'd been on purging missions that had taken three times that long.

"Well," Raditz shrugged, glancing at Nappa for assistance. Nappa only stuffed another handful of food in his mouth, clearly not wanting to contribute to the conversation. "When we found out the Ginyu Force was dead, Frieza was furious. He decided to clean up the mess himself… We thought it was you, it had to be, but… Well, when Frieza returned, we had lost all hope."

"Wha…" Vegeta's eyes widened his lips parted as his mind struggled to find the words. "What to you mean returned?"

Raditz cocked his head slightly. "Er? What?"

"About Frieza. He returned to his base?"

"Nope," Nappa spoke through a mouthful of food. He stopped chewing and gave an audible swallow. "He's on King Cold's ship. Apparently he was found in space, pretty beaten up, but his father was able to repair him. At least, that's the news around these parts."

Vegeta felt his throat constrict in fear and anger, and then as the missed opportunity sunk in, a smirk slid across his features.

"Then I assume he'll be coming after me, then?" Vegeta's mouth lifted twitched at the corner. Raditz and Nappa exchanged a glance.

"You should be able to lay low," Raditz shrugged. "All we've heard is that one of the guys that beat the Ginyu Force is still alive. So, as long as you stay far enough away from that guy's planet, you should be fine."

Vegeta knew it was not unlike Frieza to take petty revenge on a foe. He understood well enough that Frieza would try and obliterate an enemies home world; the same way the bastard had done theirs.

"Nonsense." Vegeta crossed his arms, surveying the crowd. There didn't seem to be anyone suspicious, but one could never tell. Who this guys was that had tried destroying Frieza was obvious enough. Vegeta felt the anticipation bubble inside of him; finally, he would get his true victory over Frieza. "We'll head to Chikyuu."

"Chikyuu?" Nappa asked, arching a brow. It wasn't a planet he was familiar with.

However, Raditz grinned. "Oh man! My little nephew! You don't say… How'd the little bugger do?"

"Gohan shows potential," Vegeta answered, more concerned with his thoughts that Frieza would indeed show on Chikyuu. He didn't want any more of his time wasted. However, if the Ginyu Force had let it slip where Gohan was from, there was no doubt that that was where Frieza was headed.

"I trained that guy," Raditz explained to Nappa, a proud, almost paternal smile on his lips. "And to think, he was strong enough to survive Frieza.

"Say, Vegeta," Raditz held his grin. "What about Bulma?"

"She did not make it."

"Ah," Radtiz's face fell. "She was sexy as hell. I tried to have it off with her, but she kept talking about science until my head heart. Too bad, though."

Vegeta glared at him, and Nappa opened another package of snack food.

"So," Raditz shrugged, done with thinking about the attractive blue haired woman who'd annoyed him with her chatter to the point of actually turning him off. "Chikyuu, then?"

* * *

Bulma had only been back to work for about half an hour when the door swung open. She ripped off her welding mask to give Yamcha an earful for interrupting her once again, but her face fell the moment she saw who had entered he lab.

Switching her contraption to 'off,' she sat her headpiece to the side and got to her feet. "Gohan!" She grinned, rushing to the other side of the room to pick the small boy up off the ground.

"Oh, I was so worried about you," she sighed, not letting loose her hold of the child. She knew he was tough, though, and no amount of her smothering could ever physically harm him.

He laughed. "I'm the one who was worried about you. I hoped they'd wish you back in time. How… uh, how was it?"

She smiled and pulled away, just enough to make eye contact.

"Death?" She asked. When he nodded, she cocked her head to the side, her visage pensive. "To be honest, little guy, it kind of sucked."

He nodded, looking down at his dangling feet. "I'm sorry."

"Oh don't be," she smiled, setting him down. "_I _got a free ride home and didn't have to sit in a ship with Vegeta for weeks."

Gohan chuckled. He'd missed Bulma's humor and kindheartedness. She had always been able to break the tension whenever Vegeta was there. "That was kind of awful."

Bulma gave a sage-like nod. "Worse than death, perhaps."

"He - uh, he snapped," Gohan shuffled nervously. "When you died, I mean; Vegeta snapped. I've never seen anyone move that fast, or look so angry before."

She watched the boy talk, her blue eyes swimming. It was just another smidgen of evidence that he cared. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she let Gohan's words sink in.

Gohan shrugged. "I think he wanted to avenge your death."

"He…" Bulma began, and shaking her head, reminded herself she was talking to a child. "I miss him."

"Me, too," he watched Bulma smile, and remembered Dende's words on Cerius. He still had trouble picturing Bulma and Vegeta living as parents did. He didn't see Bulma having dinner ready every night, and kissing Vegeta's cheek when he entered a room. He certainly didn't see Vegeta letting her. Gohan's dad would throw him up over his head and make him laugh. He wondered if Vegeta could ever function like a normal parent?

He continued to watch Bulma. Her hair, which had been long and unruly on Cerius was now tamed and chemically straightened, cut to hang just above her shoulders. Despite this obvious change, she looked the same to him.

He could definitely see her as a mom. She _did_ have a great big house and a good sense of humor. He'd also noticed, however, that her parents were a bit strange, and her lifestyle nothing like living at his own home. Smiling, he reminded himself that Bulma and Vegeta were both strange and different, and that if they were to become a couple at any time, their relationship was bound to be loads different than what his own parents had.

"He's safe?"

Gohan blinked at her words, and shrugged truthfully. "I'm not sure. When we left Chikyuu, he was in a rush to get back to Frieza's ship."

She rolled her eyes. Probably to eliminate the remainder of what he considered competition, she thought.

"Hey Gohan," she spoke, "if he ever does come back, will you let me know?"

"Yeah, sure Bulma."

Even though it was unlikely, Bulma thought, grinning as she mused Gohan's hair, she knew that there was always a possibility.

* * *

I stayed up _extra_ late last night to get this one up as quickly as I could to clear up any confusion. I meant for things to be a little fast-paced and vague, but I didn't mean for people to have no idea what was going on… This is my first story, and I'll definitely be practicing proper pacing in the future. My apologies. :)

Thanks everyone for letting me know how you feel! Both the positive and negative feedback have helped motivate me, and it definitely inspires me to improve my writing. So, again, thank you!

'Till next time,

-Lady Lan


	20. Chapter 20

She waggled the wrench impatiently as she watched her test subject easily tote her latest invention outside. It was massive, and she hadn't yet converted the prototype into capsule form. Just one of the ways her friend's super-strength came in handy.

Grinning, Bulma watched as Goku sat the Gravity Chamber 01 on the grass outside the Capsule Corporation compound.

"I knew those muscles were good for something!" She called, coming to his side, wrench still in hand, just incase his jostling called for any last minute adjusting.

Goku glanced at the contraption, squinting into the sunlight, and rested a hand against the chamber. "All ready for a test drive?"

She chewed on her lower lip. "Just be careful, alright? I know it's possible for gravity to be simulated in theory, but reality is an entirely different story… Of course, I do think I've managed to keep it contained."

Waving his hand in the air, as though literally brushing off any of the young genius' doubts, Goku grinned. "Well then, let's do this!"

Bulma could only nod her head, happy that her naive friend was strong enough to be a suitable candidate, as well as amply battle-hungry enough to volunteer and test her latest obsession, all unpleasant scenarios aside.

He trusted Bulma. Again and again she'd proven to be nothing but capable when it came to machines that helped in saving their home world. Besides, when it came to training, he had a lot of catching up to do.

She started explaining the controls, the power switches and gravity jurisdictions, until she noticed the way his eyes glazed over. Stopping herself, she smiled sheepishly.

"Okay Goku, pay attention," she waved her hand over the control panel. "This is important. You see this dial here?"

He nodded.

"This is what controls the gravity. As it stands, this machine can go up to 25 times Chikyuu's gravity. Now, that's a little intense, so let's hold it off to about 20, just to be safe."

Goku scratched his head, studying the controls.

"I don't know how plausible it is to stand up at 20 times gravity; all my research says you should be flattened like a pancake."

Goku nodded. He rather liked pancakes, but felt no compulsion to be shaped like one.

Bulma sighed, "However you, being a freak of nature and all, will probably be able to withstand the pressure. But take it easy, okay? You have plenty of time to build yourself up to it.

"The only other buttons you'll need to worry about are these." She moved her hand to the other side of the panel. "This yellow switch here turns on the gravity and seals the hatch." Her eyes narrowed. "Be sure I'm out of the way before turning it on."

"Yellow, on," he repeated. Easy enough.

"Right." Her finger darted from the yellow switch to a large red button. "This is the emergency shut-off. If you feel at all like you're being crushed, don't hesitate to skip normal procedures for turning it off."

"Normal procedures?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Here is the standard power down button. It slowly lowers the gravitational level, allowing your body to adapt to Chikyuu's normal gravity."

"Sounds like a waste of time," Goku shrugged, eying the large red button. "I think I'll just concentrate on the three buttons here."

Bulma sighed. "It's much easier on the Gravity Chamber to utilize proper power down methods, but I guess this _is _just the prototype…"

"Good."

"Right. Take it to five times Chikyuu gravity as soon as I've crossed the lawn."

With a nod, Goku watched his blue-haired friend make her way from the chamber, securing the door behind her. Once she was on the other side of the yard, and facing him, she shot him a thumbs-up.

He switched the yellow key, hearing the machine hum as it came to life. There was no initial pressure change, but as he slowly upped the dial to five times Chikyuu gravity, he felt his clothes weight down and his knees buckle. The room was washed in red light.

"Alright," he grinned, feeling the strain as he attempted taking a few steps back. "I'll be stronger in no time!"

He tried leaping into the air, and made it only a few inches from the ground. A few minutes later, he was becoming comfortable with five-times gravity. He could jump rather high and even managed a flip or two. When Goku went to bump it up to ten-g's, his jaw was at the floor almost instantly, and he had to pull himself up using the control panel. His hand slapped at the large, red button and he sighed as he felt his lungs expand properly.

Bulma raced back towards the contraption as soon as she heard it power down. Tossing open the door, she found Goku sitting on the floor, breathing heavily.

"So?"

Goku smiled. "This is awesome, Bulma. I have a feeling I'll double my strength in no time."

She brought her hand to her chest and nodded, not comfortable putting her friend in danger. "Just be careful, alright?"

* * *

Goku mastered ten times Chikyuu's normal gravity over the span of the afternoon. After lunch, compliments of Bulma's mother, he cranked the machine up to twenty-times gravity and resumed his training.

Bulma was programming the dishwasher after the impressive amount of dishes Goku had cleared, smiling as she remembered Vegeta's appetite.

"It must be a Saiyan thing."

"Oh what a lovely young man," her mother sighed. Bulma glanced up from the dishwasher to see her mother staring out the kitchen window at the Gravity Chamber.

"I'm going to see how he's doing," Bulma said, closing the door to the washer and listening as it came to life.

Once outside, she stepped near the Chamber, pleased to see that it had no effect on the gravity outside its walls as she feared it might.

She glanced through the window to see Goku leaping into the air; she couldn't help but smile. It didn't seem like a crazy routine, the way Vegeta spent so much time fanatically counting pushups on Cerius, but a simple, levelheaded way to increase his strength. She could see that he was quickly becoming comfortable with twenty-times gravity. So comfortable, in fact, that with his next leap he cleared the entire height of the room, his head making a clean hole through the sturdy metal of the Chamber.

Bulma sighed, watching his spiky hair protruding from the roof. "More work for me…"

The Gravity Chamber lulled and shut off, and Goku grumbled at the loss of pressure. He could really feel his strength increasing, and he was unhappy that his training was cut short, even if it _had_ been due to his own negligence.

"Sorry about that, Bulma," he said, scratching his head as he stepped outside of the Chamber.

Surveying the damage, Bulma kept her cool. "It's okay Goku. The damage isn't too extensive. I should have it fixed by tomorrow, two days tops."

Nodding, Goku took a step back before blasting into the air. "Tell your mom I said thanks for dinner!"

She opened her mouth to let him know that it was no big deal, but her friend was already long gone.

* * *

"Wow dad!" Gohan exclaimed. "That sounds great! Training at Bulma's only one day, and I can already tell how much stronger you are."

The pair landed on the Lookout, to find that Yamcha, Krillin, and Piccolo were already waiting for them.

"You've been training at Bulma's?" Yamcha asked, quirking a brow. He hadn't seen her since the day he'd stopped by for a chat.

"Just testing out some of her inventions," Goku explained. "Now, where's Kami? Let's get to training!"

They paired up, and began sparring. Piccolo grunted, wondering if this woman's technology could really heighten Goku's speed and strength the way it seemed to have.

Goku groaned. "Piccolo, train with Gohan for a little while." Rubbing his stomach, he continued, "I had a big lunch and it's really slowing me down."

Piccolo blinked. This was Goku being _slow_? He was faster than the last time they squared off… Still, though, the child seemed a worthy opponent, so he made no move to complain.

Goku leaned back, rubbing his stomach with a yawn. He figured a nice, long nap would be enough to get him back up to speed. A spar today, and then tomorrow some more training at Bulma's place.

"Goku."

He blinked.

"Goku?"

Glancing towards the ceiling, Goku blinked again. The voice calling his name was not a familiar one. "Am I dreaming?"

"Uh," Krillin spoke, glancing between Goku and empty ceiling his friend was staring at. "You're definitely awake, Goku."

"Oh," Goku scratched his head and squinted. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what, dad?"

"Goooku," the voice called again. "I need you to listen to me. What I have to say is extremely important."

"Oh." Goku nodded. "Okay."

His friends exchanged slanted glances as Goku carried on a conversation with the vacant ceiling.

"My name is King Kai," the voice continued, and Goku smiled. He'd heard a lot about the deity from Kami.

"Oh, hello King Kai."

"Goku, did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off?" King Kai's voice echoed, unheard by anyone else in Goku's vicinity.

Shaking his head, Goku answered. "Uh. Nope."

"Well, he's all right now." The voice let out, followed by a stream of giggles. "All _right_. Right! Get it?"

Goku squinted in thought. "Is that the urgent thing you had to tell me?"

"Oh," King Kai's laughter faded. He'd been coming up with puns all afternoon, and did not have anyone to share them with. "No. What I needed to tell you, Goku, was that a threat is currently heading towards your planet. It is a strong foe, one that will take much in order to defeat. You and your friends must train. I know you can beat him, but you have to prepare your bodies _and_ your minds – otherwise your entire planet will be destroyed."

Narrowing his eyes, Goku let the words sink in. "King Kai, is it Frieza?"

"Yes," the voice replied. "He is known across the universe as the most evil tyrant in history. He has enslaved many, and destroyed more."

"What does he want with Chikyuu?"

"He's seeking revenge on your son."

Goku's eyes traveled to Gohan, who was, along with everyone else in the Lookout's training facility, staring at him with intense interest.

"Thanks for the warning, King Kai."

"My pleasure. And best of luck to you all, Goku."

A silence encompassed the compound, everyone waiting for Goku's words, all knowing what they were before they left his mouth.

"Frieza's on his way," he explained. "And…"

His next words were cut short, but that came to no surprise to the men around him.

Goku grinned. "Well, it seems as though we're going to have a little help."

"I am not so sure that they're here to help," Piccolo grunted, as the group exited the facility together with a wave to Kami, who nodded as he watched the young warriors take flight.

"They want to fight Frieza," Goku shrugged. "That's help enough, if you ask me."

They landed in an open field, and were surprised to find that Tien and Chiaotzu were already there, waiting for the approaching kis to land.

Tien watched his friends touch down, as soon as Goku's feet landed, he asked, "Are they… Saiyans?"

"Yes," Goku nodded. He was already familiar with Vegeta's energy, and Radtiz's was easy enough to recognize after their fateful encounter.

"Who is the third?" Krillin wondered aloud, but no one seemed to have an answer. Even Gohan could only shrug.

"King Kai contacted me," Goku said, turning to the two fighters present who hadn't been training at the Lookout at the time. "Frieza is on his way. I'm sure the Saiyans already know. I'm betting they want to help fight him."

"I still say _help _isn't the correct word." Piccolo's arms were crossed, and he stood off to the side of the group. He could hear them easily enough, and he wasn't quite ready to associate himself with the group of warriors, no matter how much training he'd done with them over the months. "They'll kill all of us, just because they can."

"No," Gohan shook his head. "Vegeta won't. He's my ally."

"Not any more, kid."

Goku shrugged, wanting to believe his son was right. "I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves."

* * *

"Shit," she mumbled, repairing the minor roof damage had proved to be more difficult than she originally thought. She swiped her hand across her sweaty brow and wiped them on her tank top before hopping off the Chamber.

She was also having to work outdoors now that the Gravity Chamber had been moved, and there was no way she was going to be able to lift the thing and carry into her lab herself. Nor would she be able to find someone else in the compound that would be able to.

"Oh, to have a Saiyan around."

Entering the house, she smiled at her mom and poured herself a glass of water.

"Taking a break, dear?"

"Yeah," Bulma answered, taking a sip from her cup. "Goku really did a doozy on that thing."

"Oh Goku," her mother sighed. "What a nice young man. All of those muscles! Oh," she giggled, hands over her flushed cheeks. "Listen to me. A married woman!"

Bulma could only smile as she continued to enjoy her drink. Her parents never failed to amuse her in their own, separate ways.

"What about Yamcha?"

Bulma's brow lowered. "What about him?"

"Well, he seemed like such a nice boy. Are the two of you still together?"

"Nope," Bulma rinsed out her glass. "We're just friends. Trust me, he'll be around."

"Oh dear," her mother said, shaking her head, a smile adorning her lips. "We need to find you a husband, and preferably one of those muscular chaps always hanging around Goku."

"Yeah," Bulma smiled, not particularly interested in dating Krillin or Tien. "Keep your eyes open. Who knows?"

"You _do _need a husband," her mother nodded. "And _I _need grandchildren."

Bulma's face fell. She didn't _need _a husband. Her mother's words caused her feminist heart to pound against her ribcage. Bulma had never wanted to 'settle down' in the traditional sense; she was fiercely independent, and even more obstinate. Besides, she was a strong, wealthy lady more than capable of taking care of herself. She wouldn't settle for not getting her way, and so no other option ever seemed plausible.

Until, that is, she'd met one man who seemed to shrug off her moodiness, and who matched her temper and stubborn nature with ease. She couldn't really see herself _settling down _with Vegeta, but she wouldn't mind seeing how things could have played out. Frowning, she stared out the window at the broken, empty Gravity Chamber on her lawn.

"Maybe," she mumbled to herself, "in a different time."

* * *

It was his second time on this planet, and he hated it more than ever. The first time he'd landed, dropping off Gohan and splitting, only the pathetic excuse for a Saiyan and the Namekian had been there. Today, however, there seemed to be an entire welcoming party of idiots.

His teeth ground together as he stepped from the ship, the throng of warriors watching as he and his other two companions exited. They commanded attention through their sheer size, but he knew the humans were most interested in him. He smirked.

"Frieza's alive," Gohan said, staring him in the eyes. Vegeta was slightly impressed by his ability to hold back his obvious fear. He knew it was there; it was apparent in everyone. However, the boy had the most experience when it came to the tyrant, and therefore the most reason to dread his presence.

"You're here," Gohan continued, "to help us finish him off, right?"

Vegeta grunted. "No."

Krillin closed his eyes, the word '_crap_' reverberating in his mind.

"There will be no _helping _you," Vegeta clarified, his eyes narrowing. "I am here to kill him myself. None of you are to get in my way."

"We just thought we could help." Goku grinned at his fellow Saiyans. "It seemed pretty tough the first time, but maybe this time, with all of us here, we can do it together."

Fury coursed Vegeta's veins, and he steadied his breathing, willing himself not to attack the low class warrior. _Yet_, anyway. How dare this low-class Saiyan, Vegeta seethed, throw it in his face that he hadn't succeeded in defeating Frieza, and then to imply that with his help it could be accomplished!

"It's my fault," Goku sighed, seeing the anger in Vegeta's eyes. "If I hadn't been so eager to accept Raditz's offer of the tournament, I wouldn't have put my son in danger. Gohan wouldn't have been on Cerius in the first place, and Frieza wouldn't care about our planet. So, just leave it to me."

"Never!" Vegeta snapped. "This is _my _battle. I will not have a useless Saiyan standing in the way of my destiny."

"Ve-_geta_," Goku said, waving his hands in the air as though the action would calm down the irate prince. "We're on the same side here! I'm just saying that we can all help each other out."

"We are _not _allies, Kakarot. I do not want, nor need, your assistance."

Raditz sighed, and exchanged a glance with Krillin. "This could take a while."

Krillin smiled at the Saiyan he'd once been so terrified of. At least they seemed to see eye-to-eye about something.

"Okay Vegeta," Goku smiled. "How about we all train. We couldn't sense Frieza on the Lookout, so he must be pretty far away. When the time comes, I think we can use all the help we can get."

Vegeta continued to glare at the Saiyan, but made no move to verbally disagree with man's logic. True, if they had time to prepare, he'd use all the sparing partners he could get. If Frieza wasn't alone, it could also be beneficial to have others on his side.

He remained silent, only half listening as Goku animatedly explained to Nappa and Radtiz about their planet. His eyes slid to the right, noticing a rather heated gaze pinned in his direction.

While everyone else chattered about training schedules and sparing partners, one of the human's, a scar-faced male, had nothing but a sharp gaze cast directly at him. Vegeta arched a brow in the weakling's direction.

Yamcha couldn't believe that this was the man she'd fallen for. He scuffed. He was so temperamental and arrogant and… Yamcha's eyes narrowed, _short_.

Nappa, having been through a mediocre lesson on sensing power levels on the way to Chikyuu, surveyed the humans and frowned. "You all seem so weak."

"They're hiding their true power," Vegeta explained, turning his attention away from the man he'd obviously upset. He had been doing the same since Gohan had taught him. He found suppressing his power level put him in control of his ki, tricked his opponents, and helped save his energy for battle.

"We still have a long way to go," Goku sighed. If Gohan and Vegeta were the strongest in the bunch, and together they hadn't been able to defeat Frieza, they all had more training to do yet.

"We need a miracle," Krillin said, scratching his head.

"Nah," Goku brightened. "We've got something better than a miracle on our side."

Krillin looked skeptical. "Better?"

"I only spent a few hours training with Bulma," Goku grinned, things looking optimistic as he formulated a plan. "She's working on the Gravity Chamber right now. A few days in that thing and I know I'll be able to surpass Frieza."

Vegeta blinked. He'd ignored Goku's sanguinity about being able to defeat Frieza after training for a few measly days. "What do you mean, she's working on it right now?"

"Oh," Goku smiled, remembering the two were friends. "She built this thing to train in, but I kind of smashed it with my head, so she's having to fix it. Said it should be ready by tomorrow, though."

"Between the Lookout and Capsule Corporation," Yamcha began, "we should have enough training to give us a competitive edge."

"Well, I don't want to go to Capsule Corps. yet," Goku frowned. "I'm pretty sure Bulma will yell at me."

Gohan watched the prince's jaw clinch, his fists compress, and smiled. "Vegeta and I will go to Capsule Corps.. You guys head to the Lookout."

Glancing at the large, bald warrior, Krillin swallowed audibly, and Gohan sighed. To Nappa, he said, "Don't kill any humans."

Vegeta crossed his arms, and smirked at his Saiyan companions. "_Yet_."

"Alright brother!" Goku grinned, slapping the large warrior on his back. Raditz studied the smiling Saiayn skeptically. He did appear to be a respectable sparing partner, much stronger than the first time he'd landed on this planet. "I want to spar with you first." Goku's stomach rumbled, causing the humans present to blush. "After dinner, of course."

* * *

Gohan touched down outside the front door of the impressive main building of the Capsule Corporation compound. Vegeta felt the anticipation stir inside of him, and hundreds of questions raced through his head. They all began with _how_.

Knocking politely, Gohan watched the prince from the corner of his eye, hoping he'd be civil around Bulma's parents.

The door swung open, and the bubbly, blond woman stared at the muscular warrior before noticing the boy was there.

"Oh!" She smiled, shaking her head. "Gohan! It's so good to see you again. Come in. Who is your friend, dear?"

Gohan glanced at the Saiayn. "Uh, this is Vegeta, Mrs. Briefs."

She moved to the side, and the pair entered. Vegeta studied his surroundings, trying to remain impartial. It was like the woman explained, though, impressive in its size and modern grandeur, especially for such a backwards planet.

"Would you like some sweets, dear?"

Gohan shook his head, despite the fact that he did. His mother never allowed him to eat dessert before dinner. "No ma'am."

"Oh, and what about your handsome friend? Can I get you anything, Vegeta?" Placing her hand over her mouth, she giggled.

Vegeta inhaled sharply, knowing instantly where the vulgar woman attained that aspect of her personality.

"We are actually here to see Bulma," Gohan explained.

"Of course." Mrs. Briefs nodded. "She's out back."

Gohan thanked her before leading Vegeta from the compound to the sizable expanse of green grass stretching across the back lawn. The trees and flowers did not capture his attention, and he did not stare appreciatively at the impressive effects as he had upon entering the compound. Instead, his eyes focused on the dome-shaped structure on the other side of the yard.

The small half-Saiyan walked towards it, as though there was nothing abnormal about this situation. Clearing his throat as they approached, Gohan tried to get the genius' attention as politely as possible.

"For fuck's sake," the woman's voice called out from beneath the contraption she was repairing. "This had _better _be important or I swear to Kami…" Her voice trailed, and became so low and muffled the pair could not make out her words through the metal she lay beneath. Though they both gathered the gist of her inaudible threat.

Vegeta stood a few yards behind Gohan, frozen at the sound of her voice, amused by her tone. He'd forgotten how much pleasure he found in her fury. He'd known it was her miles before they'd landed on her front porch; his energy-sensing abilities were nearly perfected now, and it didn't take her familiar voice or the sight of her bare, shapely legs protruding from beneath the mechanical contraption to trust that it was really her. And it was she; he scowled.

Tossing her screwdriver at the intruder, trusting it to be Goku or Yamcha, and not particularly interested in conversing with either, she pushed herself out from under the ship.

Her mouth was open, ready to chastise whichever dared interrupt her work, but the words fell silent on her lips.

"Vegeta," she blinked, her mouth hanging ajar. This was not how she'd expected their reunion, in her backyard, a lecture on her lips, blotched in oil.

"You're supposed to be dead."

Her features broke into a grin. "Yeah, well, we humans don't really stay dead for long. At least not the ones I know."

She wiped her hands on her shorts before rushing forward and throwing her arms around him.

"I missed you," she spoke into the side of his neck, pulling away slightly, so she could look into his eyes. He went rigid at her touch, but she didn't let go. "I was so mad at you when I found out how soon you left after dropping Gohan off."

"I…" His brows knitted. Fists compressing, he tried to find the words. He hadn't known she was there. And what would give him the notion that it was possible to be otherwise? Would it have made a difference if he had known she was alive? He was here to fight Frieza, not reunite with a woman he was still uncertain about.

Gohan watched pair reunite, wringing his hands together. "I think I'm going to get some sweets," he said, trying to excuse himself. "I think, Bulma, you have some things to explain to him?"

Bulma blinked as she watched the boy scuttle into her house. She released Vegeta from her hold and took a step back.

"This is the Gravity Chamber," she explained. "I built it for you."

"How?"

"Well, you saw the plans," she tapped her child thoughtfully, deciding where to begin. Vegeta was more intelligent than Goku, but surely he couldn't grasp complex mechanics. "The schematics aren't too complicated. On Raditz's ship the gravity was stable, a normal level that allowed us to walk around freely. What I did was tweak-"

A vein at his temple throbbed. "No, blasted woman. How are you here."

She trailed off, and nodded. Dropping the business-like attitude, she looked hesitant for a moment, before her already pale skin lightened a shade. "Oh, right, yes… that."

* * *

A big thanks to menga88 for giving me the idea to include King Kai! I know his joke was corny. That was the point. :D

I really wanted to hold off until tomorrow, so I could say it was May 12! However, I figured none of you would be amused, so I posted this today instead. You're welcome?

Cheers!

-Lady Lan


	21. Chapter 21

"And with them," Vegeta continued, crossing his arms as he leaned further back on the couch, "you can wish for anything?"

"Anything that's within Kami's power to grant," she replied, watching as Vegeta's eyes narrowed in concentration. It was strange, she thought, having an alien prince sitting in her living room. No matter how acquainted with the abnormal Bulma got, she caught herself from time to time pondering the perplexity of it all. "There are limitations, but yeah, that's the gist of it."

"Immortality."

Bulma rolled her eyes, catching the look that encompassed his features. She could only imagine what he was contemplating. "And why would you want something like that?"

"So I can defeat Frieza." His tone was bitter, and there was a malicious glint in his eyes. She realized his intensity for killing Frieza had only intensified since Cerius. Vegeta was a prideful man, and discovering he hadn't quite achieved his greatest victory was not a light blow to his sensitive pride.

"From the sounds of things, Frieza will be here in a couple days."

"You said you are the best at gathering them, yes?" His features hardened. "Collect them, and grant my wish."

Bulma grinned. "Sorry Vegeta, but it doesn't work like that. You can only make one wish a year," she rose a finger, as though to better get the point across, then brought the finger to her chest, motioning to herself, "and I haven't been alive that long."

He grunted. "A waste of a wish, if you ask me."

She was familiar enough with him to understand his humor, to see the line at one corner of his lips jump, to know that he was joking. "Hey!" Laughing, she pushed against his shoulder playfully.

He remained silent, and she sniffed. "Fine then, be a jerk Vegeta, and see what happens."

"Oh, please tell me woman, what will you do?"

"I won't let you use the Gravity Chamber," she replied. Though the haughty smirk on his lips was enough to let her know that he would like to see her try and physically stop him from doing anything. She frowned. "I'll break it, and good luck finding someone to fix it before Frieza shows up."

"You never said," he changed the subject, tone no longer holding any trace of jesting, "when we were on Cerius, that if you died you could be wished back."

"It never came up," she replied, cocking her head to the side, studying the dark prince's thoughtful countenance. "I have a power level of five, Vegeta. I'm brave, but not stupid."

With just that, Vegeta was satisfied. "This Gravity Chamber," his eyes were now focused outside the window at the contraption on her back lawn, "when will it be ready?"

"Uh," Bulma scratched her head. She'd gotten a good deal of work done on the roof that day, and she was in the process of tweaking the gravity to go up to one-hundred-times Chikyuu's. It didn't take a genius such as her to see how quickly Goku had mastered training under intense pressure. She was glad that she was raising it, because if she thought Goku was extreme, she couldn't imagine the beating Vegeta would take in order to get the most out of his training. "Almost done. I can have it up after dinner."

Just as she seemed to provide him everything he could want on Cerius, here on her own planet she was able to supply him with meals and training facilities. He didn't need her, he told himself, but the benefits that came with having her close were worth keeping her around. It was the very argument that had kept her alive the past few months.

"That should be sufficient," he nodded.

"I can prepare you a room, and two for the other Saiyans you brought with you, if you'd like."

Vegeta thought of Raditz and Nappa, a headache forming. He was unsure of what their roles were now that they were all on this planet. Radtiz had expressed a bit of interest in being around his nephew and brother, but he couldn't picture Nappa stuck in a word of weaklings without causing a scene. He did not care about the humans, but he didn't want to listen the woman's complaints. And if Nappa blasted a few of her kind into the next dimension, he was sure to hear about it.

"They are with the other idiots."

She nodded. "Probably the Lookout." She studied Vegeta for a moment longer before getting to her feet. "Well, I'll have my mom put on dinner, and I'll go work on the Gravity Chamber. Sound good?"

Nodding, Vegeta stood and followed her outside. She stared at him from the corner of her eye, wondering if he were really going to watch her the entire time she worked. It seemed like it would be more than a little distracting, but she sighed; he had nothing else to do.

Instead of hovering over her, however, Vegeta moved to the other side of the yard and practiced katas while the woman worked. He glanced at her every now and then, just to make sure she wouldn't disappear. He could feel her ki, though, and hear her humming to herself as she busied herself with making him stronger. Concentrating on his training, he willed himself not to think of the beautiful blue haired woman again until it was time for dinner.

* * *

Krillin's head smashed against the wall, and he audibly groaned. When he opened his eyes, flinching at the ache in the back of his skull, he saw Yamcha scratch his head sheepishly.

"Yeah," Krillin moaned. "Thanks for the help."

"Sorry," Yamcha said, coming to his side and extending his hand to his friend. The short, bald man took it and got to his feet. His opponent yawned.

"That was easy," Nappa frowned, watching the pair of humans, both badly bruised, the scar-faced one sporting a bloody lip and the bald one a broken arm.

Raditz, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping up with his brother. He was surprised how much stronger Goku appeared to be. Surely if he were this powerful months ago Goku wouldn't have feared him the moment him the first time he landed on this planet.

Nappa scanned the group of fighters, wondering where Vegeta and the child had run off. They made for much better opponents than these weaklings.

"Any takers?" He asked, cracking his neck with a grin.

From the corner of the room, the lean green-skinned man took a step in his direction. From what he understood of the race, Nappa believed Namekians were weak and preferred peace to fighting. He scuffed. Though this particular Namekian seemed to have an icy glare, and decent enough power level to prove otherwise.

So, with a shrug, Nappa charged towards Piccolo, glad to find one person on this planet that posed a challenge, even if that someone wasn't exactly from there. Figures.

* * *

"Hey Bulma!"

The woman in question glanced up from her morning coffee and Sudoku puzzle. She'd been only half alert, what with the early hour and her transfixion over the conundrum of numbers. "Oh, hi Goku. What's up?"

Goku took a seat at the Brief's kitchen table, eyeing the plate of untouched waffles in front of Bulma. Without glancing up from her puzzle, Bulma slid them towards Goku, who accepted the plate happily.

The pair sat for a few moments in silence, in which Bulma's coffee grew tepid and she got up for a top-off while Goku finished her breakfast. After she returned to the table, Bulma stared at her friend over her steaming mug.

"So?"

"Oh, yeah," he nodded, polishing off some of the stray syrup. "I was wondering how the Gravity Chamber was coming along."

Bulma frowned. The Chamber seemed to be of primary interest to all the males in her life. "I got it up to one-hundred times Chikyuu's gravity."

Goku's eyes bulged. He'd been struggling with twenty-five.

"Vegeta's been at it for hours," she glanced down at her watch, seeing that it was only six-thirty in the morning. "You're welcome to drop by, but it's at your own risk."

Rubbing his neck, Goku decided he'd accept the challenge. He was more than a little anxious to spar with Vegeta. Besides, if he was Bulma's friend, there was no reason not to consider him one of his own.

* * *

She heard the muffled voices from downstairs, and squinting into the darkness, glanced at the alarm clock on the other side of the room.

"Uh," she mumbled, returning her head into the warm chest she'd been resting on, "five twenty-seven…"

While it may have been an early hour for her, she was quite shocked to find that Vegeta was still in her bed. Blinking, she glanced up to see the prince's features relaxed in the midst of a deep, dreamless sleep. He'd spent the previous day locked in the Gravity Chamber with Goku, the room set to one-hundred-G's. Bulma tried to remember what time it had been when he'd finally come to bed, freshly showered and in need of a post-training workout. She smiled at the memory, before deciding that it was probably only a few hours ago. Vegeta must have been exhausted, after all, to sleep through the commotion downstairs.

She held her breath and listened to the pair of voices. With a sigh, she nudged the prince. He grunted, not opening his eyes.

"What is it, woman?"

"Nappa," she answered, snuggling closer to his chest. While Raditz had opted to stay at Goku's, much to his sister-in-law's displeasure, Nappa had nowhere else to go. That was how he'd ended up at Capsule Corporation, having a noisy conversation with Mrs. Briefs at five-thirty in the morning.

"Stop him," she sighed, "before he kills my mother."

Trying to fall back to sleep, Vegeta grunted. "That idiot woman's life is of no consequence to me. She should stop pestering Nappa about finding a 'nice, pretty human woman'."

Lifting her head, blue tresses falling around her shoulders and brushing against his own, she frowned at him. "The fate of your breakfast depends on that woman."

Grumbling, Vegeta got to his feet, being sure to shove Bulma off him none too gently. While this earned him a glare from her, she was well aware that it was nothing more than a light tap coming from the powerful man now scrambling to pull on his clothes.

With a grin, Bulma watched his bare ass disappear into a pair of spandex shorts, as he muttered a stream of curses that were more than likely directed at her, before slamming the door to her bedroom behind him.

Bulma yawned, and snuggled into the pillow he'd been using. It was warm, and smelt of the Saiyan Prince. With a smile, Bulma closed her eyes. Vegeta did not return to her room, and she did not wake up until nine o'clock.

* * *

Vegeta was in the Gravity Room when he'd felt it. Goku was gone, remaining at his home to appease his wife who was none too pleased with all the time their brat had been spending alone with Raditz and Piccolo while Goku spent the last few days training at Capsule Corps.. Though being in the company of the idiot made his head physically throb with pain, Vegeta could not deny the strength of the Saiyan. Goku had been coming by each afternoon, and the pair would spar until it hurt either to move and Bulma's mom called for dinner. Sex and food were the only things that could lure a Saiyan away from fighting, and within the compounds of Capsule Corporation, he found both.

He recognized Frieza's energy, but was not familiar with the ki accompanying him. Cursing, Vegeta wiped his brow and exited the Gravity Chamber.

"Vegeta," Goku called, the moment he'd stepped from the Chamber.

Cocking a brow in the man's direction, Vegeta watched as the woman entered the yard, worry evident on her features.

"What is it?" She glanced first at him, and then to the taller Saiyan. At the serous look on Goku's face, her own expression fell. "Is everything alright?"

"Bulma," Goku spoke, his voice low. "Go to Korin's and get all the Senzu beans you can."

With a shaky nod, Bulma reached for her capsules. "How will I find you?"

"Gohan has the four-star ball."

With another nod, she pocketed the capsule containing the radar, her hover bike capsule still in hand.

Nearly as soon as he'd appeared, Goku was gone. Vegeta also powered up, but before he could take to the sky, he felt her hand stop him.

He glanced down at the small, pale fingers encompassing his thick, tanned wrist.

"What is it, woman?" He said, jerking the limb from her grasp.

"Please," she sighed, stepping towards him, "be careful."

Snorting, Vegeta turned his back to her. Before he could take off, she interrupted him once again.

"I'm serious Vegeta." She clutched the capsule in her hand. "I'm worried about you."

He remained silent.

"Good luck."

"You are an idiot. I have survived this before; I do not need your _luck_."

"It's an expression," she sighed, trying to keep her temper at bay. "I'm worried about you. I don't want to lose you, not again."

"I was never lost."

"Vegeta…"

"I will return when this is all over," he turned his head, glancing at the woman before blasting into the sky, not giving her another chance to delay him. With his luck, Kakarot would have beaten him to the battlefield and destroyed Frieza before he'd get a chance to lay a finger on him.

* * *

Gohan shook slightly, and inched closer to Krillin.

His father and the tyrant were exchanging words, and from the other side of the field, he could feel Freiza's power radiating from his small frame. Goku was giving the new arrivals the chance to leave, promising him that if he were to go now, peacefully, they would not harm him. Vegeta snorted.

"Hey Gohan," Krillin whispered. "Is that Frieza?"

The boy squinted, staring at the warrior who was laughing at his father's words of warning.

"It's him," Gohan answered, though he couldn't help but notice that Frieza looked slightly _altered _somehow.

Vegeta had noticed this too, and smirked, glad to see that he'd at least put a permanent dint or two in the bastard. He was antsy, however, due to all the small talk. Even if Frieza took the offer to go in peace, though he knew he would never, Vegeta would not let him go without a fight. He'd blast him on his way back to his ship if that were to become the case.

When he stopped laughing, Frieza coolly studied the group before him, his eyes resting on Goku and Gohan. "I thought I managed to kill most of you monkeys… Oh well, there is always today."

"That is right my son," King Cold said, nodding at the shorter man at his side. "Please make it fast. I already tire of this planet."

"As do I, father."

Turning his attention the group of warriors that had gathered upon his arrival, Frieza smirked.

"Who is up first?" His gazed focused on Vegeta. "Ah, little monkey prince, I assume you would like a rematch?"

Not bothering answering, Vegeta powered up, ki flaring around him, a fierce crackling of blue energy, and flew towards the bastard he was fairly sure he'd already killed once before. This time around, he would be certain there would be no doubt. He smirked, his fist colliding into Frieza's gut, picturing himself ripping the tyrant apart until there was no uncertainty. Hand at the tyrant's stomach, he released an energy blast.

His demeanor fell, however, as the attack did nothing but widen Frieza's grin.

"Please don't tell me you think you'll be getting off that easy," Frieza rose a few feet into the air, his tail swaying behind him as Vegeta visibly shook from below. "I was unprepared last time. I assure you, I am not taking any chances this time around."

King Cold watched his son from the ground, grunting as he studied the statistics playing across his scouter. Cocking his head to the side, he honed in on the small half-Saiyan trembling beside a short bald human. These men seemed to have little in common aside from their obvious ability to control their power levels. It was an interesting trait; one he wouldn't mind picking up.

A cold smile on his lips, he decided the child would be the best target. He knew this was the one his son was after, the little brat that had assisted in leaving his son for dead in the cold emptiness of space.

"You," he said, eyes on the boy.

Gohan's eyes darted from the fight overhead to the tall man frowning in his direction. "Me?"

"Yes, you, brat," he grunted. "Let us head over to the other side of that ridge. I wish to fight you, but do not want to get in the way of my son's fight with Vegeta."

Goku narrowed his eyes at the warrior, taking a step in front of his son, shielding him from King Cold's view. "Leave Gohan out of this." He still felt guilty for putting his son in danger.

"Goku," Piccolo interrupted, his eyes never trailing from the pair exchanging blows in the sky. "You are needed here. I will go with Gohan."

He glanced at his son, before nodding in understanding. "Okay Piccolo."

King Cold did not wish to listen to any more of this, and so, taking into the sky, he flew to the other side of ridge. Gohan blinked, wondering why he always ended up being the one fighting, but as he took to the air, he was flanked by the two men who'd served as his coaches the past few days.

"Raditz," he smiled at his uncle, and then glanced at the somber Namekian. Gohan took one last fleeting glance to the sky, to see that while Vegeta was holding his own, the prince did not appear to be at a clear advantage.

"Do not pay any attention to that fight," Piccolo instructed. "Raditz and I will help you, and your father and the others are there in case Vegeta needs any assistance."

Raditz remained silent, crease forming at his brow, knowing that Vegeta wouldn't allow anyone to step in and help him. It would have to be over his bloody corpse that anyone else was able to take on Frieza.

From the ground, Yamcha found himself standing beside Krillin, Nappa, Tien, and Goku, feeling a bit useless. He knew he'd be willing, if the time came for it, to step up and fight, but if Vegeta and the men around him all fell, surely he would as well. It was more than a little disheartening, but he was in the business of saving their planet. Sometimes, there were casualties.

Frieza's fist caught Vegeta's cheek, tossing him back a few feet. Vegeta easily regained control, skidding to a stop and propelling himself back towards Frieza. He could feel himself growing fatigued, but used that, as well as the blood and sweat collecting on his brow, fists, and chest, to fuel his passion. This was it. This was all there was to survive for. If he failed now, there was no purpose of living, and nowhere worthy of showing his face as a failure.

With a growl, he flashed before Frieza's eyes, and when the tyrant blinked, the Saiyan was floating nearly a kilometer from him. Before he had a chance to move, he was caught in the midst of Vegeta's Big Bang attack.

Vegeta panted, watching the smoke dispense. When it cleared, his chest tightened. Frieza stood, smiling, unscathed.

Krillin watched as Vegeta's move failed, and had to shield his eyes as the blast was echoed by one of Frieza's own.

"He doesn't have much time," Goku muttered, watching as the pair returned to hand-to-hand combat.

"No," Nappa snapped, glancing at the Saiyan who was ready to blast forward and offer his assistance to their prince. "This is still his fight."

Krillin blinked. "But he's… he's going to get beaten. What if he's killed?"

Nappa simply shook his head. "Not yet."

On the opposite side of the ridge, Gohan was not as concerned with fighting solo. He was more than happy to have the assistance of the brawny Saiyan and the battle-savvy Namekian. It certainly made his job easier.

Tag-teaming King Cold had proved easy enough. The large emperor was more than a little cocky, and had laughed at the trio's attempts at first. That is, until they began to wear him out. Blocking their moves proved difficult. He'd finally brought the Saiyans down for a brief moment with a blinding blast. Cornering the Namekian, he took hold of one of his green limbs, and with a shout ripped it from his body.

"No!" Gohan cried, scrambling to his feet as he watched his companion sway at the loss of the limb. Purple blood dripped from the wound, and even Raditz struggled to his feet to help the fighter.

Laughing, King Cold raised his arm at the beaten Piccolo, ready to deal a deadly blow, when the small half-Saiyan charged forward. Spreading his arms, Gohan deflected the blow intended for Piccolo with ease. A murderous glint flashed in the boy's eyes.

Raditz smirked, more than a little impressed at his nephew's sudden second-wind. He moved to Piccolo's side, ready to defend the warrior if King Cold took any characteristic low blows. However, it would not come to it, as Gohan charged towards the warrior, his hair flashing for an instant, a powerful energy blast forming in his palms.

Blinking, Raditz watched the golden color fade, and the hair briefly spike, before falling limp once more. "It can't be," he whispered, as the Namekian beside him clutched his arm with a proud smile.

* * *

"Hang in there, Vegeta," Goku muttered, watching as the Saiyan Prince took yet another punch to the face. He felt Bulma's ki in the distance, arriving at Korin's. Soon she would be here, Senzu beans in hand. Surely Vegeta would back down before he met his end.

Goku could feel it, the anticipation pulsing in his veins. He studied Frieza's attacks, memorizing his strategy. On the surface, he was often brushed off as a bubbling, naive do-gooder. All of which, in fact, were truths of his character. However, as his eyes bounced back and forth between the pair of skilled fighters, formulating an attack of his own, there was no ounce of idiocy in him.

Vegeta shouted, the sound reverberating against the terrain, cracking a ledge in the distance. How, he wondered, panting as his vision clouded, how was it possible that he could fail? Again? The last time he'd felt so close, and he'd done nothing but train since. During this fight, Frieza had been able to transform, but not he. He could _feel _it, locked away in some unreachable place within him. It was maddening.

He released another blast, watching as it charred his opponent's core, but did nothing to slow Frieza down as he approached.

"No," Vegeta panted, gathering some more of his energy and steadying his sights on Frieza. The bastard who'd destroyed his home, stripped his legacy to nothing more than an empty title. "You will not win."

Both hands at one side, he gathered more ki, wheezing as he released it. The tyrant deflected the blast, and it spun to the left, colliding into cliff and reducing it to rubble. Vegeta was desperate now, and he charged the other warrior half-mad.

Frieza grunted, dodging the blow with a turn of his shoulder, and sending his fist through Vegeta's stomach. The prince had become reckless in his passion, and Frieza smirked as he watched him pay the price. Hand still in the prince's fresh wound, he released an energy blast, instantly cauterizing it.

"No," Vegeta said, once more, as he felt the ache of his defeat more so than the pain of the blow.

He fell, face up, to the ground, splintering the earth with the force of his fall. Eyes sliding closed, Vegeta breathed, taking in the air with difficultly, and cursing himself. He was still alive, he knew, bringing his hand to rest on his stomach. Lifting his arm, he glanced down at his glove, now red with fresh, wet blood.

Clinching his fist, he growled, pulling himself up and getting to his feet.

"Vegeta," the scar-face man called, rushing to his side. Vegeta glanced at the man, murder in his eyes.

"Get out of my way."

"You…" Yamcha swallowed. "You need to relax. Goku's got this."

Vegeat's dark eyes flashed upwards, to where the third-class fool was meeting _his_ opponent.

"I will not let him."

"Bulma will be here," Yamcha spoke, warily eyeing the prince's wound. The cauterization prevented any further blood loss, but it was still a rather nasty injury. "She'll have Senzu beans. You can wait that long."

He thought of the woman; his eyes slid closed.

"Sit back," Yamcha instructed, hands wisely hovering inches from the prince's shoulders, not quite able to touch the man. "She wants you alive. Goku is a Saiyan. He's on your side."

"Kakarot," he grumbled, feet sliding apart as he glanced upwards. The Saiyan was shouting, his ki skyrocketing. Even Frieza seemed to tremble. Vegeta's voice was low, "Kakarot… It is up to you. Avenge our people."

Yamcha blinked at the words.

Vegeta squinted as Goku's power level continued to climb. It surpassed his, he realized bitterly. He was selfish, but dying. Groaning, he remained standing as he watched the warrior above him do what he'd now failed twice.

Goku's hair flashed briefly, swinging upwards as it turned a vibrant shade of yellow, a golden aura surrounding his frame. Vegeta watched his legacy unfolding without him, the pain in his chest now far surpassing the gaping hole in his stomach.

"Wha…" Krillin gasped, "what is it?"

"Super Saiyan," Vegeta answered, teeth clinched, half in awe, half fury. Goku had stopped shouting, and was now charging towards the dumbfounded tyrant.

From the sky, the low class warrior, who'd spent less time in the Gravity Chamber than he, pushing his body to its limits, brought Frieza to his knees.

Vegeta listened as the bastard begged for his life, fingers from one hand digging into his palm as the other held his stomach in place.

It was _he _who had been fated to fulfill their race's legend. The weight of their people had been put on Vegeta's shoulders, and he'd carried it, rather seriously, his entire life. The strength had coursed through his veins; he could _feel _it within himself. He'd never doubted that he would one day assume the rightful place that had been preordained since the day of his birth...

Blood and sweat skewed his vision; fury shook his frame, as he watched Kakarot ascend, so effortlessly, right before his eyes. The idiot had once told him, during a spar in the Gravity Chamber, that he could win any fight, only if he tried hard enough. It was Vegeta who told him what a Super Saiyan was. His jaw tightened, molars grinding to a painful degree.

What was there to live for, Vegeta wondered, watching as Kakarot's Kamehameha collided with the wide-eyed tyrant, when the only goal that drove him forward was dead at the hands of a low-class fool?


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you to **everyone** reading this story. Also, thank you to anyone took the time to review.

I would like to extend special thanks to my most loyal reviewers:

betty69blue, BlackDiamond07, catgirl26, elleelle, , Flame3723, grumpirah, ImmolationPiggieOfDoom, krazikeo, menga88, MK08, Ninjabobo529, niteryde, Obsidian Blade, Pink-strawberries, preciousjade76, Ri69q, Shades of Crimson, Shrirochan21, taity, The Azu Soul Lilly, vegeta's chew-toy, Zailz-101, ZapZapYotsuba, and vegeta's chew-toy.

For sticking it through, and always letting me know what you thought, this one's for you! :)

* * *

The sun was settling itself below the horizon when Bulma's hover bike came into view. Gohan smiled at the sight of the familiar woman, and also at the single sun slowly dipping out of view. The sun on his home planet cast the sky in red light. It was the most beautiful sunset he'd ever seen.

When her chopper landed a few yards away from the group of silent warriors, she hopped off and encapsulated it.

"I've got two Senzu beans. Who needs 'em?" she called, scanning the group of warriors. Bulma was relieved to see them all alive and intact. Well, mostly. Her blue eyes widened at the tall Namekian, clutching his arm that was still dripping purple blood.

"Oh Piccolo," she frowned, extending a Senzu to the man. "I think you'll be needing this."

"Hn," Piccolo grunted, a smirk forming on his lips. Removing his hand, he extended his arm at the elbow and shouted. To everyone's surprise, the limb regenerated. Piccolo flexed his healed arm before the group of slack-jawed fighters.

Bulma's frown remained. Shaking her head, she turned from the Namekian and surveyed the rest of the men. Everyone seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her.

"Okay, I get it, you're all a bunch of tough guys."

A familiar voice cursed her, and she opened her mouth to speak to the flame-haired man, but his back was turned to. Her face fell.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, taking a subconscious step in his direction, her fingers clinching around the pair of beans in her palm.

"Go away woman," he sighed. "I am an elite warrior. I will heal."

Yamcha paled at his words, the opening in his stomach visible from where he stood.

"Ve_geta_," she sighed in frustration, "being a prince doesn't make you invincible you know."

He turned to face her, one his hands clutching his injured stomach. "Woman, I understand that these weaklings serve as your only examples of fighters, but a true warrior can take a blow from his opponent."

Bulma however remained silent, her eyes widening at the sight of his wound. Everything she knew about the human body said he should be dead. Of course, he wasn't human. She ignored his anthem of macho-ism.

"Vegeta…" She took a few more steps, until she was standing directly in front of him. "Take this; you'll be stronger than before. I promise, there's nothing unmanly about healing a hole in your abdomen."

He glared at her, and she had to suppress a smile at the heat in his gaze. It was pure, unadulterated anger, yes, but there was no trace of hate. He snatched one of the beans from her and chewed it, his eyes never leaving hers.

Bulma watched as his skin returned from beneath his tattered armor, and though his legs dripped with blood the scrapes were gone. When he was healed, but still glowering at her, she beamed. "See?"

She then turned from the prince, and surveyed the other warriors. Goku seemed roughed up a bit, but fine. Piccolo, upon magically healing himself, was also unscathed. Raditz was sporting a bloody lip, but she knew it was nothing the Saiyan couldn't handle. Krillin, Tien, Nappa, and Yamcha looked like they'd avoided battle completely.

Dropping to her knees, she met Gohan's gaze. "Your mother would die if she saw that black eye."

He smiled, flinching as he did so. "It's nothing."

Cocking her head to the side, Bulma handed him the last Senzu bean. "Trust me, things will be a lot easier on your dad if you come home free of any nasty bruises."

With a sigh, Gohan took the bean and ate it, looking defeated. He wondered where Bulma's powers of persuasion came from. She'd not only gotten him to take a Senzu bean, but also had forced Vegeta into eating one.

Nappa and Raditz watched their prince in amazement. The woman's pills seemed to have an instant effect, even greater than their tanks. It was amazing. Not for the first time, they were impressed by this plant's offerings. When Raditz had first landed, they were not even able to travel into space further than their own moon. It was truly astounding.

Vegeta, however, was not concerned with anyone other than the third-class Saiyan. "Kakarot," he mumbled through his clinched teeth. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Bulma had approached him and was standing at his side, watching him with a thoughtful gaze.

"Go away, woman."

She grinned. "Sorry Vegeta, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Hn."

Bulma followed Vegeta's gaze, watching as Goku hosted his son up over his shoulders, causing the child to laugh. Piccolo and Raditz stood by, watching the scene fondly. Bulma smiled.

"Stay on Chikyuu."

"Never," he growled, eyes snapping to her own.

"You haven't anywhere else to go, right?" She cocked her head to the side, watching the emotions play out across his features. It was mostly a mask of anger and frustration, but she saw something else in his eyes, as though he were entertaining the idea. "You can use the Gravity Chamber any time you'd like."

"You will make improvements," he instructed, his eyes never leaving hers. "I will need the gravity doubled, and I require training devices. I assume your supposed _genius _can handle that?"

Bulma could only laugh.

"Kakarot," he mumbled, glancing briefly at the man still wresting and laughing with his son, "soon I will surpass you."

"Yes, yes," Bulma grinned. "I think I can get the Gravity Chamber up to 300-g's. You'll be able to beat Goku up in no time."

He glared at her, not especially fond of her joking tone, but her eyes were serious.

"Come back to Capsule Corporation with me."

"I will." He nodded. "But it has nothing to do with you."

"It's about Goku, then?" She did not need an answer. At her words, his eyes narrowed at the other Saiyan. "You deserved to kill Frieza, but I know Goku wouldn't have been as successful without sparing you. Besides," her eyes scanned the exposed flesh of his freshly healed stomach, "I know you weakened him. At least it was a Saiyan, right?"

His fists compressed. "It should have been me," he said, his voice so low she could barely hear him. She was also sure she was the only one that had.

"I know." She smiled, "But Chikyuu is always facing its fair-share of villains. Next time, it'll be all you."

One of his brows arched. "I will see if this planet provides me with any suitable challenges."

Without another word, she embraced him, her head resting on his chest and her eyes pinching closed. Bulma's hands clinched the sides of his armor, and he stared down at her whitening knuckles in surprise. However, he felt no compulsion to push her away. And so, with his men standing nearby, and an entire throng of humans watching, he allowed her to embrace him.

"Thank you," Gohan said, glancing at his shoes, a bright blush staining his cheeks, "Mr. Piccolo."

The tall Namekian only smiled fondly at the boy. With a nod, he glanced from the small, half-Saiyan to his father. "I will be around." And, with that, he took into the air in the direction of the Lookout.

Tien watched Piccolo depart into the sunset and nodded. "I'm going to go as well."

Krillin smiled, raising his hand to block out the glare of the setting sun. "Tell Chiaotzu I said hi. Poor guy's probably upset that he missed the fight."

Tien nodded, and told Krillin that he would, before following Piccolos lead and blasting off in the opposite direction.

From his place to the side of the group, awkwardly watching as Bulma pulled away from Vegeta and smiled at the man, her eyes a bit misty. His heart clinched, and he turned away. With a forced grin, he raised his hand in a wave. "I've got a big game tomorrow," he sighed, reminding himself that he had a normal life to lead. "It was nice seeing everyone again," he chuckled, "despite the circumstances."

"Bye Yamcha!" Krillin and Goku called. From Vegeta's side, Bulma smiled and returned his wave. He nodded at her, before turning to Goku and wishing him luck. The group watched as he, too, took to the sky.

"What about you?" Bulma asked, turning to the pair of tall Saiyans. Nappa shrugged. "I will take Frieza's ship and go back to space. Perhaps if I get bored I will return, but I don't really see that happening. This place is a shithole."

Raditz chuckled, but shrugged. "I think I'll stay on Chikyuu for a while. If it's okay with Chichi."

Goku scratched his head, but Gohan jumped. "Alright! We'd love to have you Uncle Raditz!"

Turning to the shorter Saiyan, Goku asked, "Vegeta?"

"I will be staying here. In a year's time, we will face off."

"Alright," Goku grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."

Bulma sighed, fishing out her capsules as she shook her head. "Boys…"

"Woman," Vegeta growled, watching as she pulled out a capsule that surely contained one of her bulky flying devices. "I will not ride in one of your ridiculous contraptions."

Placing a hand on her hips, she leveled her gaze at the Saiyan Prince. "Oh? Well sorry, but that's how we get around here."

"Hn," he grunted, grabbing her around the waist. With one last glare at Kakarot, he took into the air, with the woman shouting curses in his arms.

Gohan laughed as he watched the pair depart, hoping that Bulma could convince him over the next year not to seriously hurt his father. He'd seen her progress with him so far, and he had the slightest bit of hope. His father, however, seemed excited about the prospect of fighting his fellow Saiayn. Danger aside, Goku was always up for a challenge.

"Well," Krillin said, scratching his head as he glanced at the trio of Saiyans, "I'm going to Roshi's place. I'm sure he's more than a little curious about what went down today."

"Yeah," Goku nodded, watching his bald friend. "Let him know how well Gohan did."

"Will do," Krllin glanced at Gohan, and smiled. "I'm also going to see if he'll train me. Seeing you guys in action today made me realize how much work I have to do just to keep up." He laughed. "You guys take care!" With a wave, he was gone.

Gohan returned the wave, laughing as he watched Krillin depart.

His father rubbed his head, musing his already messy hair. "I'm proud of you, Gohan."

The boy blushed, glancing up to meet his fathers eyes, and then looking over to see that Raditz looked equally pleased with his performance.

"Thank you," he whispered, glancing back to the sky.

"Well," Goku said, "I guess we should get back to your mom."

Gohan nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the horizon. He could feel his friends' power levels drifting apart, going in their separate directions. The heroes, his new best friends, not to all gather in once place again until the next time something threatened their planet.

_.finis._


End file.
